


Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

by Jbrizzywrites



Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actor Chris Evans, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jbrizzywrites/pseuds/Jbrizzywrites
Summary: On the brink of divorce, Chris and Deja Evans are trying to breeze through the marriage counselling required by the courts before they can officially part ways.
Relationships: Chris Evans (Actor)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 85





	1. LCTWTO 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi hi. I decided to take my tumblr fic and bring it on over to AO3. I appreciate you taking the time to read and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Deja Evans toyed with the singular long braid that resided on her shoulder and resisted the urge to look at the clock on the wall again. Her eyes flickered over to her husband who was seated as far away from her as possible in the waiting room even though they were the only occupants outside of the receptionist.

If that wasn’t a clear picture of the current state of their marriage, she didn’t know what was.

Her gaze swept over him, taking in the ballcap he had pulled low to hide his face. If the pair were lucky, they’d get in and out without paparazzi swarming them. It was bad enough that she kept having to deal with phone calls and text messages from well-meaning family who kept seeing her and her husband’s face thrown across tabloids as they checked out at the grocery store ever since Chris had filed papers for divorce. She couldn’t stomach having to dash their hopes that they were trying to work it out if pictures of them leaving a marriage counselors office got out.

Deja leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She wasn’t quite sure why she was nervous. All of this was a formality so she and Chris could part ways, but the idea of having to reopen wounds she’d learned to ignore scared her.

The faint beat of Chris’ foot as he bounced his knee alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t the only one nervous.

After arguing for over a year, at least they’d managed to feel the same about something.

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans,” the receptionist called, “Dr. Lunquist will see you now. It’s the second door on the right.”

Chris beat her to the door that led to the therapist’s office. Their eyes briefly locked before he looked down at the ground while opening the door for her.

“Thank you,” Deja softly offered as she passed him. She could hear him following behind her.

She wrung her hands together as she paused before the door that would lead to their first therapy session, trying to work up the courage to walk in. After a few seconds passed, she felt large hands run up and down her shoulders.

“We can do this,” Chris assured her, “After all, what could we possibly talk about with her that we haven’t already tried to hash out on our own? We know we don’t work so now we have to prove it to her so we can be done with this.”

She shrugged his hands off of her, “Such a romantic, Evans.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know he had his hands help up in defense and he was rolling his eyes, “I am. You just don’t appreciate it.”

Deja clicked her tongue against her teeth as she pushed open the door, annoyance overriding her nerves.

As the pair entered the office, Dr. Lunquist stood to greet them.

“Hello,” she shook each of their hands, “I’m Dr. Lunquist. It’s nice to meet you though I understand the circumstances aren’t pleasant. You two are free to sit wherever you feel most comfortable. I have those two chairs,” she motioned to the two burgundy seats that were beside one another, with a healthy amount of space in between, “or if you’d prefer to sit on the couch, I can take one of the chairs.”

Chris immediately headed for one of the chairs without even sparing a glance at his soon-to-be ex-wife.

Deja wasn’t surprised.

She took the chair next to him and crossed her legs as the therapist donned a pair of glasses and sat with a small notepad and stack of papers in her hand.

“Have either one of you ever done therapy before?” she questioned. After both of you nodded in affirmation, she continued, “Okay. So you both know that the first session is really about getting some background information and finding out what goals you two have for your time with me. Mr. Evans, why don’t you go first?”

“Please, call me Chris,” he instructed. He took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair as he struggled to think of a nice way to say what he wanted to. He eventually just decided to put all the cards out on the table, “I think I speak for both of us when I say our only real goal is to get through this next six months of sessions so we can get our divorce.”

An annoyed sigh fell from Deja’s lips, “As you can see, he lacks tack when he isn’t getting his way.” 

He crossed his arms, “Did you want me to lie?”

“No, Christopher.” Deja hissed as she mirrored his arm crossing, “I understand you want to be rid of me as quickly as possible but there were several different ways you could have phrased that. Maybe try, ‘we have both come to terms with our marriage ending, but realize that having to complete six months of counseling and legal separation as a requirement so our goal is to comply with the courts as much as possible so we can peacefully walk away from one another.”

“Which all boils down to, ‘we’re doing this because we have to in order to get a divorce’. I got straight to the heart of the matter. There’s no need for talking around it,” he argued, “But way to make me look like an asshole, dear. You know you’re just as ready to be done as I am.”

She turned to him, “Trust me, you don’t need my help to look like an asshole.”

Dr. Lunquist cleared her throat and both parties turned their attention back towards her, Chris. Mrs. Evans.”

“I prefer Ms. Moore, but you can call me Deja,” she interjected. 

Chris lightly hit his cap against his knee in irritation, “That is not legally your last name.” 

“It is professionally,” she countered. “Quite frankly, I should have never changed it in the first place.”

“Because I forced you to just like every other choice we’ve ever made together, right?” he challenged, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“No, because you never really treated me like a teammate so what’s the point of wearing the jersey?” she countered, eyes aimed straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

Their therapist clears her throat again to regain their attention, “Clearly, there are several issues here at play.” She leaned forward and gave each of them a sheet of paper with identical questions, “I’m going to have you two fill these out before you leave. I’ll go over them before our next session. In our subsequent sessions, we’ll be going over one or two questions and walking through your perspectives with one another.” 

They each took a clipboard and the pen attached. An uneasy silence filled the room as they took their time to feel out the questionnaire. Once both had finished and returned the clipboards to Dr. Lunquist, she stood to dismiss them.

“I’ll see you next week,” she told them before they both began to trek down the hallway to exit.

* * *

Deja rushed to her car, leaving Chris to confirm their next appointment with the receptionist, but he quickly caught up to her. He leaned against her car, “I need to grab stuff from the house.”

As his cologne wafted up to her nostrils, strong and familiar, she could feel as tension swept across her body and she mentally willed herself to relax, “I’ll find something to do. Text me when you leave so I can head home.” 

He bit his lip before he said, “You don’t have to vacate the premises every time I’m there, Dea.”

She shook her head and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, “Don’t go soft on me now after one session, Evans. After all, you’re just trying to get through the next six months and get out of this, right?”

A humorless chuckled fell from his lips, “Ah. So you’re still mad about how I phrased how both of us are feeling? You know as well as I do that if filing in LA would have made any difference on the counseling requirement, we would have done it there because we both don’t want to be married anymore.”

“I’m not going to argue with you in the parking lot of our therapist’s office.” She motioned towards the office building, “She’s probably looking out the window and debating on whether she should double her usual rate.”

“She should triple it. We aren’t easy,” he attempted to lighten the mood but knew from the look on his wife’s face that the joke had fallen short. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nudged a few rocks on the ground, “Mom’s home. You should stop by and spend some time with her and Dodger while I grab more clothes.” 

Deja rolled her eyes as she stuck the key in the lock to open her door, “The last thing I want to do is post up at your mother’s house and deal with the awkwardness that is her golden boy leaving me.” 

His head snapped up, angry eyes boring into her, “You can stop acting like this isn’t mutual at any time, Deja.”

She shrugged as she yanked her door open, “You filed, pretty boy. I didn’t.” 

“You know I hate that nickname,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

“I’m aware, pretty boy.” She lightly pushed his chest to get him to step back so that she could get into her car. She closed the door, started the car, and rolled the window down, “Text me when you’re done. We should probably arrange a time for you to come get all of your clothes since you’ll be at your Mother’s for at least the next six months.”

“You know you’re not getting my house, right?” he informed her.

“You know I don’t want your house, right?” she mimicked. “You coerced me into moving to Boston. The second I’m in the clear to be back in DC, permanently, I will be.” 

He rapped his knuckles on the roof of her vehicle, “Nice rewrite of history. I can really tell you’re an author.”

“Not a rewrite, pretty boy.” She buckled her seat-belt as she said, “You’re just incapable of seeing yourself as manipulative because you’ve bought into your own pr.” 

He shook his head in denial, “Tha-“

“We’re done here, Christopher,” she stated as she cut him off. “Let me know when I can go back to your house.”

Without waiting for his reply, she rolled up the window and pulled off.


	2. LCTWTO 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the second part! Just to clear up the timeline a bit because I’m taking liberty with it. Chris and Deja have been married for a little over two and a half years after dating for eight months. I’m placing Endgame to have been filmed and released about three years earlier than right now so take the entire MCU and push it forward three years. Chris is still 39 in this story. Hope that makes sense!

* * *

Deja’s only goal when leaving the therapist’s office had been to get away from her soon to be ex-husband as quickly as possible. The fact that he’d needed to run by their home had been inconvenient, but she’d gotten good at finding somewhere else to be the few times he’d needed to stop by over the past few months.

Usually, she went to a coffee shop or a bookstore to pass the time. If he’d given her enough notice and it was late enough in the day, she’d Uber herself to some dive bar where it was possible for her to not be recognized as Chris Evans’ wife and wallow in the fact that she and her husband couldn’t be in the same room without an argument occurring.

Chris’ suggestion that she go visit his mother was ridiculous. Laughable, really. Chris was and had always been a huge momma’s boy which could have been a problem if not for the fact that Lisa had no qualms about letting her son know when he was in the wrong and needed to behave better. But, at the end of the day, Deja wasn’t delusional. He was still her son and she was the woman he was divorcing. She’d decided the smartest thing to do was to go ahead and act as if she’d lost Lisa and the rest of his siblings. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the one that made the most sense.

And yet, Deja found herself sitting outside of her mother-in-law’s house, anxiety slightly abated upon seeing that the only car present was Lisa’s and she wouldn’t have to deal with any of Chris’ siblings.

The author hadn’t been to this house in over two months and pain gripped her heart at the realization that a place that had once felt like a second home to her now left her with a feeling of uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach.

She finally worked up the courage to exit the car and slowly made her way to the front door. She pressed the doorbell and anxiously awaited her fate.

She didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open and she was immediately greeted with a huge smile.

“Dea!” Lisa exclaimed as she pulled her into a hug, “Now you know you don’t have to ring the doorbell or knock. That’s why all of you kids have a key!”

Relief coursed throughout Deja’s body at hearing Lisa still refer to her as one of her own and she hugged her back tightly, “I know Momma Lisa, but I hadn’t warned you I was coming over. I didn’t want to scare you by just barging in since you’re here by yourself.”

She pulled back from the hug and waved off Deja’s concerns, “Chris told me that he was going to get some stuff he needed from the house after you guys’ session. I told him to tell you to come and hang with me and Dodger while he did.” Lisa gave her a knowing look, “Call it mother’s intuition, but I knew you’d take me up on that offer.”

“I’ve only been here a few minutes and I’m already glad I did.” Deja looked around the living room, “Speaking of Dodger?”

“Backyard,” Lisa answered with a nod towards her sliding glass doors.

Deja quickly hurried to the backyard. Dodger was lounging in the sun but opened his eyes at the sound of the door sliding. As soon as he saw Deja, he immediately ran to her. She dropped down to greet him, petting him all over as she cooed, “Heeeeey, my sweet boy! How’s my boy? Is he still such a good boy? The best boy? Yeah?” She nuzzled his neck as he laid his head on her shoulder. She lamented, “Oh I have missed you, big guy.”

Lisa snapped a picture while Deja was preoccupied with Dodger, sending it to her son and telling him to take his time getting the items he needed. She sat in one of the chairs from her patio set before she said, “Seems he missed you, too. He’s not the only one, you know.”

Guilt washed over Deja as she stood and sat in a chair across from Lisa, Dodger resting at her feet, “I’m sorry. I ju-“

Her mother-in-law took her hand in hers while she interjected, “You have nothing to apologize for. Divorce is hard and everyone processes in their own way. If you need space, take it. But I don’t like the idea of you all alone in that house thinking you aren’t wanted or welcomed here. This family’s love for you began with Chris but it’s not maintained by it. We love you. You are my daughter, Dea. A divorce isn’t going to change that.” Tears formed and threatened to spill from Deja’s eyes and Lisa felt it pull at her heartstrings and she squeezed Deja’s hand, “Now, daughter of mine, how are you holding up?”

“Honestly?” Deja used her free hand to wipe some of her tears away, “It comes in waves. Some days, I’m fine and I know I’m going to be okay once this is all over. Then there are days where I feel raw and everything hurts.” She took a shaky breath and took a few seconds to gather her thoughts before she continued, “You think I’d be used to being in the house alone since Chris traveled so much for work but it just feels different. Knowing he’s here, but he’s not with me. I see people when I’m out running errands and I know they want to ask but don’t want to be rude. I mean, this is his hometown. There’s not one place where I can go that I don’t have memories with him. Some days, I feel relieved that he finally filed because I wouldn’t have had the courage to even though I knew we weren’t getting better. On other days, I’m so mad at him for filing because he gave up. Which is stupid because we stopped fighting for each other and started fighting with each other such a long time ago. I just…it’s a rollercoaster.”

“As someone who has been where you are, I get it. At this stage, you just have to take it a day at a time. Know that this flip flop of emotions isn’t wrong. It’s just part of the process.” Lisa gave her a small smile, “Hey, maybe the therapy will help.”

That statement caused panic to wash over Deja as she rushed to explain that reconciliation wasn’t the goal of their sessions, “Momma Lisa, it’s n-“

Lisa waved her off and assured her, “Honey, I know neither one of you are in this counseling to save the marriage. I just think the therapy will help both of you process and deal with the emotions that come with divorce. Who knows? Maybe it’ll get you both to a place where you can be cordial, maybe even friendly, with one another.” 

Deja scratched Dodger behind the ears as he laid his head in her lap as she drily responded, “She’s a therapist, not a miracle worker. I’m sure he’ll forget all about me as soon as the ink is dry, and he gets his house and single life back.” 

Lisa gently let go of her daughter-in-law’s hand and sat back in her chair as she studied Deja. Not for the first time, Lisa wondered exactly how involved she could be and still respect that her children were adults who were capable of making their own decisions—even if they weren’t decisions she fully agreed with. She watched as Deja avoided her gaze, preoccupying herself with giving Dodger attention. In the three years that she had known the woman sitting across from her, she had never seen her so demure and defeated.

She could say the same about her son.

Eventually, her need to help soothe the woman she’d come to love as her own overrode her need to be as hands-off as possible in this whole process.

Lisa cleared her throat before she spoke, “He listens to your weekly podcast.” 

Deja’s head popped up and she stammered, “Ex…excuse me?”

“Every single week, he listens to it.” Lisa crossed her arms and leaned on the table, “Makes sure everyone else does too. Tells all of us to stream it in the background if we aren’t interested in the topic so you’ll have better numbers. He reads your blog, too.” 

Confusion marred Deja’s face as she tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat and the tears that were beginning to form, “Why are you telling me this?”

Lisa grabbed both of her hands, “Because I remember how excited he was when he came home from DC after meeting you while he was meeting with different members of Congress. I remember the day after your first date, he called me and kept me on the phone for three hours telling me every single detail. I probably could tell the story of your first date almost as well as you two. I’ve never seen him so enamored.” She rubbed the back of Deja’s hand with her thumb, “Only you two know how you guys got from there to where you are right now but I think you deserve the full picture even at the end. You deserve to know that he still carries some of your business cards in his wallet to hand out whenever he’s traveling just in case he potentially comes across someone who could further your career. You deserve to know that he told his lawyers that he knew you wouldn’t ask for anything beyond moving expenses so they needed to make sure that you got enough to set you up for the comfortable life he promised you where you’d be able to pursue your dreams without fear of finance.” Lisa paused for a few moments, letting her revelations soak in before she gently spoke, “You said earlier that some days, you feel like he gave up. I understand why you feel that way, but I think you deserve to know that he may have given up on your marriage, but not once has he ever given up on you.” 

Deja wanted to be strong. To hold it together until she was able to be alone and cry in solitude, but Lisa’s words broke through the dam she’d built up over the past few months and sobs fell from her lips as tears flowed freely.

Lisa quickly stood and made her way to the other side of the table. She opened her arms and Deja quickly enveloped her. She rocked her back and forth, rubbing her shoulders as she let her daughter-in-law unleash the weight of emotion that she’d refused to let anyone help her shoulder for months.

After several minutes passed, Deja pulled away and gave a watery laugh as she saw where her tears had soaked Lisa’s t-shirt, “So…sorry about that.”

“It’s just water, honey. It’ll dry,” Lisa assured her with a shrug. “Bet you feel a lot better after letting that out, huh?”

She nodded, “I think that’s the first time I’ve really allowed myself to cry about it beyond a few tears. I’ve probably eaten and drank my weight in popcorn and wine over the past few months while having to deal with that empty house, but I don’t think I’ve really allowed myself to feel it.

Before Lisa can respond, Deja’s phone buzzed with a text from Chris, letting her know he was headed back to his mom’s house. She quickly wiped her eyes, “Chris is on his way back. I should go.”

Lisa stepped back as Deja stood, offering Dodger one more scratch behind the ears before walking back into the house and towards the front door.

Lisa pulled her into a tight hug, “You are always welcome here. Don’t you dare forget that? If being here is too much, then shoot me a text or call. I’ll meet you anywhere. Just don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Deja hugged her back, “Okay.”

Her mother-in-law let go before she admonished, “And make sure you eat a proper dinner. Wine and popcorn aren’t going to sustain you, Olivia Pope.”

Deja laughed and shook her head, “Yes ma’am.”

As she opened the door and started to exit, Lisa gently grabbed her arm, “I love you, Dea.”

She placed her hand over Lisa’s and gave a gentle squeeze, “I love you, too.”

They both nodded and Deja headed to her car as Lisa closed the door behind her.

* * *

Chris walked into the house he had vacated several months prior. As he passed through the living room, he noticed a bowl, empty except for a few kernels and, what he assumed was, an empty bottle of wine. He shook his head as he briefly flashed back to the first time Deja had gotten him to watch Scandal and how she’d admitted that wine and popcorn were indeed a go-to meal for her and several other women she knew when it felt like your world was falling apart. It hadn’t made sense to him then. Didn’t make sense to him now.

But he wondered if it’d made her feel any better.

Because whiskey hadn’t done a thing to ease the constant ache in his chest. 

He stopped short when he noticed one of his sweaters laying on the couch. He picked it up and realized it smelt like his cologne though he hadn’t worn it in weeks. He could almost envision her on the couch: one leg tucked underneath her, wine glass in hand, and sweater nuzzled to her chest, swaying to music as she let tears fall.

Curiosity got the best of him and he picked up one of the remotes from the table and hit play to find out what she’d been listening to. He swallowed as the song began to softly drift through the speakers 

_"The nights are so lonely  
The days are so sad and  
I just keep thinking about the love that we had  
And I’m missing you  
And nobody knows it but me”_

He immediately turned it off, unable to listen to more. 

Deja had always prided herself on being able to craft the perfect playlist. Seemed like she’d managed to put together a solid soundtrack to heartbreak, but he expected nothing less. He tossed the sweater back down and scratched the back of his neck. Guilt washed over him as it began to feel like he had intruded into a private moment that he no longer had the right to bear witness to or be a part of.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he would ever feel comfortable in his own home again. Selling it after the divorce was beginning to look more and more appealing. 

He began to head up the stairs, his mind back on the task at hand. He paused outside of their bedroom and took a deep breath. Upon opening the door, he was surprised to find the bed untouched. Deja had always said she didn’t see the point of making a bed when you were just going to slide back into it. If the bed was made, it meant she hadn’t been sleeping in it.

He crossed the room to open the closet and found the most of her stuff is gone. He knew he should respect her privacy, but he couldn’t help himself. He left their bedroom and made his way down the hall to the closest guest bedroom.

Upon opening the door, he was greeted with an unmade bed, sleep clothes in pile on the floor, and an open closet door that answered where the majority of his wife’s clothes have moved to. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if he should have offered to pay for her to stay somewhere else and stayed at the house instead. At least then she wouldn’t have to dance with the ghosts of happier times between the two constantly plaguing her.

Not that he would have handled being in the house by himself any better, but he was trying to do right by her in their divorce since he hadn’t managed to do it in their marriage. 

Better late than never, right?

His phone buzzed. It was a message from his mom. A picture of Deja with Dodger and a message that read: ‘Dea’s here. Take your time.’

A sense of relief flooded his system. From the moment he’d told her that he was filing, she’d refused to speak to him unless absolutely necessary and, he’d be lying if he said it hadn’t been eating at him. Even at their worst, she’d always had something to say even if he hadn’t wanted to hear it.

Deja hadn’t responded to any phone calls or texts from anyone in his family and everyone had been worried. While he knew she loved her own family, she’d always been tasked with being the “strong one” and he knew she wasn’t going to talk to her own family about how she was feeling. She had a few close friends in DC he knew she could lean on, but it wasn’t the same as having people in person to offer comfort and support. 

Her tendency to retreat into herself when she was hurting had him worried. He knew his mom would be able to gauge how she was really doing and get her to open up. 

He put his phone back in his pocket and left the guest bedroom to go back to the master bedroom. He grabbed clothes from the closet and drawers. A few more pair of shoes as well. He moved those into the living room and then walked down the hall to his office to grab papers. When he entered, he saw a box on the desk and curiosity got the better of him. 

He felt the air escape from his lungs as he realized what it contained. 

He and Deja both had rooms set up as offices, with Deja’s having a smaller room attached for her podcast recording. Chris’ office held minimum decorations, but Deja had adorned her space with pictures ranging from the very beginning of their relationship all the way up to their wedding. Pictures and the memories the captured had always been important to her.

Those photos now resided in the box on his desk.

He sat down, feeling absolutely gutted though he knew that he had no real reason to be upset. Having these pictures in her workspace would have been distracting and he could tell she’d carefully placed each frame in the box instead of haphazardly tossing them in.

Logically, he understood.

Emotionally, it felt like a sucker punch.

He picked up the picture that was on top, running his finger along the frame. It had been taken the first time she’d met his family. It’d been Memorial Day weekend and he’d hosted a cookout in his backyard. Both had consumed a few drinks and had somehow become convinced they could nail the leap from Dirty Dancing—Deja’s favorite movie.

Deja had gone to the DJ to tell him to play (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life as he’d cleared a space and gathered a small crowd of family and friends to hype both of them up.

Deja had run at full speed, giving her best leap and Chris, just having gotten done filming Endgame, was still in Captain America mode physically and had been able to lift her with ease. He’d lowered her to the ground, and both had been so elated that it worked. Scott had snuck a photo of the pair’s lengthy celebration and managed to capture both of them fist pumping the air, Deja’s head thrown back in jubilation and Chris staring directly at her, joy so clearly written all over his face.

Scott had told him when he looked at the picture the next day, he’d known right then and there that Deja was going to be the woman was going to marry.

Chris didn’t realize he was crying until tears splashed against the frame.

He put the photo back and opened the desk drawer, gathering the few papers he’d come to collect. He needed to be out of the house as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to deal with the full weight of what he was losing. What he’d already lost in so many ways.

He gathered his clothes and shoes, locked the door behind him and tossed everything into the backseat of his car.

He texted Deja to let her know that he was done and headed back to his mom’s house. He made the decision to take the long way there, hoping that Deja would be gone by the time he arrived.


	3. LCTWTO 3

Dr. Lunquist greeted the couple as they entered her office and sat in the chairs, “Good morning, Deja, Chris.”

They both mirrored her greeting back to her as they took their seats.

Dr. Lunquist settled on the couch before saying, “Let’s dive into it, shall we? I spent time looking over both of your answers to the questionnaire that I had you guys fill out. The first question that I had you answer was what you considered to be the main issues in your marriage. I want us to talk through those and make sure you both have properly communicated exactly what you feel is causing problems. I’ll ask that you two stick to ‘I feel’ statements so we’re not attacking the other person.” Both parties nodded as she asked, “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Chris volunteered. He leaned back and crossed his leg over his knee, “For me, the biggest issue is that I’m never sure what she’s thinking or how she’ll respond. My job requires sacrifices on both of our parts and I’m never quite sure if the sacrifice she makes today is going to be thrown back in my face during an unrelated argument. Our arguments quickly turn from being about the issue at hand to being about the issue plus everything else I’ve done over the past few months that I thought was resolved.”

The therapist made a few notes before she asked, “Deja, does this seem like an accurate representation?”

Deja fidgeted with the fringe on the bottom of her shirt, “Yes and no.”

“Care to expand upon that?” Dr. Lunquist inquired.

She nodded, “I don’t just bring up random slights to try and win the argument. I bring up relevant past issues to try to show that there’s an established pattern and that’s why my reaction to the issue at hand is so severe.”

Dr. Lunquist noticed Chris shaking his head and commented, “Clearly, you disagree, Chris?”

_“Sometimes,_ that’s the case,” he acquiesced as he ran a hand through his hair. “But it isn’t always the reason she’s doing it. Nothing is off the table when it comes to arguments and there’s always a point where it stops being about finding a solution and she’s just out to hurt me.”

“Deja?”

“Have I done that? Especially these last few months? Absolutely,” she confirmed as she sat up straighter, bracing herself for an argument, “Is it okay? No, it’s not. However, we can’t overlook the fact that he pushes and pushes and thinks an issue has to be settled as soon as it is identified instead of there being a cool-down period.”

“Can you go into further detail with that? Those statements really lead to one of the issues that you wrote down,” Dr. Lunquist queried.

Deja took a few moments as she tried to figure out how to properly articulate her thoughts, “Chris was always adamant that he never wanted to be enveloped by a person or relationship. Which is exactly what I wanted too. I had a life and a career before we met, and I have plans and goals that exist outside of who he is.” She bit her lip and sighed before she continued, “But throughout our marriage, I’ve started to feel as if what he actually means is that he wants a partner who is as independent as his goals will allow.”

Dr. Lunquist tilted her head in confusion, “I’m not sure what you mean. Can you clarify?”

“Sure,” she answered as she smoothed down the skirt she was wearing, “It feels like he enjoys the fact that I’ve got a career and life outside of who he is until it gets in the way of what _he_ wants to be doing or involved in. When it comes to sacrificing career opportunities, I’m always expected to be the one to give in and he gets upset and frustrated if I don’t.”

“Chris, how do you feel about that sentiment?”

He twisted the wedding ring on his finger as he answered, “I think it’s disingenuous. I’m all about her career and her being successful, but she’s against using any of the resources that are available to her because of who I am and what I do for a living. Most of our arguments aren’t me asking her to sacrifice steps and achievements in her career but asking her to utilize the open doors she has access to through me so that we can _both_ have what we want.”

“Sounds an awful lot like adopting your life which is something you’ve stated to several interviewers was something you didn’t want,” she scoffed.

Dr. Lunquist spoke up before Chris had the opportunity to respond, "It’s clear that you two have a different perspective on that. Deja, why don’t you tell us about the other issue you listed. I think both of the things you listed go hand in hand.”

Deja took a deep breath and tried to slow down her rapid heart rate. She could feel regret begin to wash over her. Last week, she’d been bold and figured she had nothing to lose. Having to sit next to her soon to be ex-husband and finally vocalize her biggest fear concerning their relationship to him seemed far more daunting today than it had a week ago. She looked down at the ground as she explained, “Most of the time, I feel like I’m a midlife crisis decision that he’s struggling to handle now that he’s found stable footing in the other areas of his life.”

Chris’ head snapped up, confusion splayed all over his face, “What?”

“Why do you feel that way, Deja?” Dr. Lunquist probed.

“When we met, _Endgame_ had just finished filming. Marvel, being Captain America, was such a huge part of his life for 8 years. His next moves were up in the air. He’d reached his mid-thirties and all of his friends had gotten married and had kids. The time from dating to marriage was eight months. I have no doubt that he fell in love with me, but there’s always been a part of me that was worried that the motivation to move so fast on his part was just because he felt like it was time for him to be a husband and a dad.” She sat back and lowly sighed, “We both agreed to hold off on kids for a few years since we ere both in transitions with careers. He’s been able to cement himself as a solid actor outside of Marvel. He’s directing and producing. He’s almost forty. It’s just become increasingly apparent that marrying me was a rash decision that he’s finally decided to try and undo.”

Dr. Lunquist wrote down a few notes before she asked, “Chris, do you feel like that’s an accurate assessment of how you feel towards Deja and your marriage?”

“Absolutely not,” he vehemently denied. “Of course, my contract ending with Marvel was a big deal, but I was excited to be able to pursue other things. Meeting and marrying Deja was a huge part of that.” He turned towards his wife, “Dea, I’ve regretted some of the things that have happened _in_ our marriage, but I have never regretted marrying you or the timeline of how it happened. If marrying you was about keeping up with my friends, I would have pushed for us to have kids as soon as possible. I was the one who suggested we wait a few years, remember?”

She quickly wiped tears from her eyes, voice wavering as she replied, “One could make the argument that’s because you knew this was temporary.”

His face softened at her tone and he gently rebuffed, “That’s not true, Dea.”

“And yet we’re sitting in a counseling office because you filed for divorce,” she sniffled.

He grimaced at her statement before he defended himself, “Someone had to file, Dea. You can keep making me out to be the bad guy for initiating the process, but you basically spent the past four months in DC even though I’ve been home. I have never thought our relationship was a mistake and I’ve never treated it as such. When I asked you to marry me, it’s because I truly believed that it was going to be me, you, kids, and a white picket fence until we were old and gray. I’m not sure how we got here, but you have to know that I never thought that this is how it would all turn out.”

“Deja,” Dr. Lunquist gently broached and the other woman looked up at her, “do you think you may have let this fear affect how you operated within your relationship with Chris?”

“Absolutely. I have bent over backward trying not to cause waves. Shrinking myself and my wants and needs because I wanted to be the perfect wife.” Deja doesn’t miss the way Chris recoiled upon hearing her answer. She turned toward him as she said, “You never asked that of me, Chris. But I gave into things that I should have stood my ground on because it was easier to bend. And I don’t necessarily think I was wrong. The one time I stood firm in what I wanted, I came home to divorce papers.”

An agitated sigh spilled from his lips, “That’s not why I filed, Deja. You stood your ground and then proceeded to not talk to me beyond letting me know you were still alive while you were away. I only knew about what you were up to because I watched your Instagram stories.”

“Impressive considering you don’t have an Instagram,” she retorted.

Chris barely contained the urge to roll his eyes, “And there’s the snarky comment that lets me know I’m right because she can’t handle being wrong.”

Dr. Lunquist spoke up before Deja had the opportunity to do so, “Do both of you feel like you’ve been given adequate time and space to point out what you feel are the biggest issues hindering your marriage?” Both parties nodded and she continued, “While you two both certainly have very real grievances with one another, none of them is the main issue. They’re all symptoms of a larger disease. I listened and watched you two go back and forth with one another. Not just in this session, but also in the last one. The issue that you two have is that you both want to win. Having a ‘me vs you’ mentality turns discussions into arguments. You two are meant to be a team which means every discussion should be looked at as ‘us vs the issue’. Both of you are so preoccupied with being right and having your way that you’ve willingly sacrificed the health of your union to be able to say that you won. Even when one of you concedes that the other has a point, you go to ‘yes, but…’. There’s a lot of justifying your own bad behavior based on what the other person did.” She glanced at the clock and finished, “Our time is up for this session, but I want to leave you two with some homework. This worksheet utilizes what is known as Naikan Reflection. Normally, I tell each couple to fill it out 24 hours before their next session, but that might be difficult because you two aren’t living together right now. I think it would be beneficial for you both to think about your relationship as a whole and how to answer these questions with those in mind. It’s going to take the focus off blaming each other and concentrate on the part of the marriage you can control which is yourself. “ They both took a worksheet. As they made their exit, Dr. Lunquist stated, "I’ll see you two next week.”

* * *

Deja waited for Chris to finish confirming their next appointment. They walked together through the parking lot in silence. When they reached Chris’ vehicle, Deja spoke, “If you want to stop by this weekend and grab some stuff or even stay for a few days, you’re more than welcome.”

He slipped his hands into his pockets as he asked, ‘Where will you be?”

“Essence Fest,” she answered, “I’m doing a panel with a few other podcasters. I’m leaving tomorrow. Fest lasts Friday through Sunday so I’ll be back midday on Monday.”

“You’re going by yourself?” he asked.

She shook her head, “Jaz and Raven are meeting me there.”

He lifted an eyebrow, “Raven, huh?”

Deja crossed her arms, “I’ll make sure to let Jaz know that you completely glossed over her presence.”

“I trust Jaz,” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes and huffed, “This weekend will probably be torture for you since you only trust one out of three.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he defended as he held up both hands, “I trust you too.”

“Do you?” she challenged.

“Raven encouraged you to stop wearing your wedding rings which is why TMZ even went looking for divorce papers in the first place,” he replied, refusing to dive into his level of trust for her.

“We’ve been over this,” a weary sigh escaped her, “She encouraged it because every time I looked down at my hand, I started crying. Divorce papers are public record, Chris. Harvey and his cronies would have found it eventually. I’m not going to keep apologizing for hurting your feelings by being caught by the paparazzi without my rings. It’s incredibly unfair of you to blame her for trying to help me cope. At the end of the day, taking them off was my decision just like putting them back on was.” She uncrossed her arms and stuck her hands in her back pockets, “Even when encouraging me to take a break from wearing my rings, she never said a bad word about you. All she said was if I couldn’t handle the weight of it, then it was okay for me to put it down for a week or two so I could process without the constant reminder. She’s been a good friend to both of us and she doesn’t deserve your distrust.”

“You’re right,” he acquiesced, “Let me try this again. I hope you have a good time with Jaz and Raven. I also hope the panel goes well. I know you always get nervous about public speaking, but you’re going to knock it out of the park.”

“You really think so?” she asked as she looked down at the crown and softly kicked a pebble.

“Dea,” Chris reached out and gently lifted her chin, so she was looking him directly in his eye, “this sort of thing is right in the middle of your gifting. You always come across as funny, warm, and informed. There will be people who are there because they love you and those who don’t know who you are will be subscribing to your podcast before they leave. You shouldn’t even worry about making a plan for transporting your books back to your publisher because you’re going to sell out. You got this, Dea.”

A soft smile spread across her face, “Remind me why you haven’t won an Oscar yet?”

Chris threw his head back and laughed, “I definitely should have won one by now _buuut_ , I wasn’t acting just now. I meant every single word. You are good at what you do. Hell, the content you make isn’t even for my demographic, but I find myself entertained and informed after every single one. You’re about to be in your element instead of white as can be Sudbury. You’re not just going to do well. You’re going to thrive.”

Deja surprised herself and Chris by pulling him into a hug, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Coconut, vanilla, rosemary, and citrus flooded Chris’ nostrils and he could feel the ache in his chest grow as he hugged her back, “Anytime, Dea. Anytime.”


	4. LCTWTO 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features some lyrics from Lizzo’s, Soulmate. If you don’t listen to Lizzo, you should be!

* * *

Deja fanned her face and squealed as they watched the singer start to perform from their spot backstage, “I cannot believe I just met Lizzo! _LIZZO._ ”

Jaz chuckled at her friend’s excitement, “I’m surprised you’re not crying.”

“I’m in shock,” she huffed as she dramatically placed her hand across her forehead, “I am incapable of tears.”

Raven nudged Jaz and grinned, “I bet if she brings Missy out for Tempo, she’ll become more than capable.”

Deja turned towards Raven, “Is she bringing out Missy? _What do you know?!?”_

Raven shushed her before stating, “I know that you’re loud and maybe moving past the threshold for tipsy.” She took the bottle of whiskey out of her friend’s hand, “I want you to be able to remember the night. But to seriously answer your question, I don’t actually know that Missy Eliot will be making an appearance, but a girl can dream.”

“If she comes out, I’m going to bawl like a freakin’ baby. A baby.” She lightly tugged on Jaz’s sleeve, “Let me see the picture you took of us.” The other woman shook her head and grinned at how excited Deja was as she pulled up the picture. Deja was giddy as she instructed, “Send that to me. I need to send that to Ch-…uh…disregard that. You can send it to me later.”

Raven tossed an arm over her shoulder, “You know there’s no judgment here if you want to send it to him, right? You said you thought therapy was going to help you guys part amicably. Amicably split couples are allowed to talk to one another. Especially when he’s taken you to see her what? Five times?”

Dea looked down at the ground, “Four. He always offered to get me a meet and greet, but I didn’t want to take advantage of him spending money on me.” Both of her friends start to speak, but she cut them off, “Shut up about it being ‘our money’. He’s a millionaire. Those millions he came by when the closest I could come to knowing him was paying to watch the Marvel movies.”

Jaz gave her a pointed look, “Is that why you’re dead set on fighting him on the alimony he wants to give you for the next ten years?”

Deja grabs the bottle back from Raven as she mutters, “I’m not nearly tipsy enough for this conversation.” She took a sip before asking, “Can we just enjoy Lizzo’s set? I promise we can talk about all of this at brunch tomorrow. I just want to enjoy this because, honestly, the past few months have sucked.”

Jaz crossed her arms, “Well, I’ve got just one question for you and then we can enjoy the show.”

“What?“ she asked with an eye-roll.

Her friend waited a few seconds before she sang along with Lizzo, “Why men great ‘til they gotta be great?”

* * *

Scott leaned back against the couch and asked Chris, “So where is Dea? She has to be out of town if you’re staying the weekend here.”

“Essence Fest. She was a part of a panel earlier today,” Chris answered as he scratched Dodger behind the ears before settling into the couch.

Scott nodded and asked, “Did you text her and ask her how it went?”

He scratched the back of his neck as he replied, “I didn’t want to sour her mood if she didn’t want to hear from me. But I paid to watch the live stream. She absolutely crushed it.” The silence stretched between them and Chris could feel his brother staring at him, “ What?”

“You being afraid to talk to your wife is part of the reason why you’re in divorce territory,” he answered without hesitation.

Chris crossed his arms, “I’m not afraid to talk to her.”

“Fine then. I’ll just call her right now and you can tell her how fantastic she’s doing,” he challenged as he pulled out his phone.

“Dude, don’t,” the older man reached out and lowered Scott’s arm, “She’s not going to pick up. Lizzo is performing tonight. She’s probably in the front row, singing her heart out.”

Scott set his phone on the coffee table, “She by herself?”

“Jaz and Raven are with her,” he answered.

Chris’s answer caused Scott to laugh as he remembered the time he had accompanied Chris and the trio of women to a Lizzo concert in LA. He rubbed his hands together, “I absolutely cannot wait to see their Instagram stories.”

Chris looked at the clock below the television set, “It’s 10:30 here which means it’s 9:30 there so videos should be up soon.. Care to place a bet on how many times you’re tagged in the Shaderoom about your sister-in-law showing out.”

Scott snorted, “Listen, they only tag me because you won’t get an Instagram.”

“I’ve read some of the comments when Deja scrolls through it while we’re lounging around before bed,” Chris ruefully shook his head. “They don’t hold back. I don’t think I could handle it.”

Scott watched as Chris took a sip from his beer, “Even if you don’t want to call her, you should at least text her and tell her you saw it and she did great.”

“I’ll tell her when she gets back,” he replied with a shrug.

A frustrated sigh fell from his brother’s lips, “I love you but you’re an idiot.”

“Because I’m trying to respect her need for space?” he defended.

“That’s not what you’re doing. You’re trying to keep yourself from being even more hurt, but let me ask you something.” Scott can tell from his brother’s demeanor that he’s agitated, but keeps going, “When this divorce is final, all the assets split, she moves back to DC, and you have no reason to reach out to her, are you going to regret not making one final push to get your wife back? When it’s 2 in the morning and your mind won’t shut up, is it going to just be a constant repeat of all the things you wish you would have said or done to keep from ending up living without her? You said yourself, right before you met her, that it was hard to know if a woman wanted you for _you_ or because you’re Chris Evans. She has never seen anything other than _you_ , dude. You’re not _the_ Chris Evans to her. You think you’re going to be able to easily replace that?”

Chris elected not to answer. Instead, he stood and tersely responded, “I’m taking Dodger out in the backyard for a little bit. I’ll be back.”

As he watches his brother’s retreating back, Scott released a heavy sigh and decided the best course of action was to stay put and let his brother have a few minutes to process everything he’d just asked.

* * *

Deja awoke with a faint headache. As she rolled over, she was greeted with the site of a bottle of water and two Ibuprofen on her nightstand. She silently thanked her drunk self for looking out for her sober self. She rested against the headboard as she downed the pills and half of the water. The constant buzzing of her cellphone soon caught her attention and she reached over to pick it up.

Upon unlocking it, she realized she had over fifty notifications on Instagram. Opening the app, she realized that almost all of them were alerting her to the fact that she’d been mentioned in the comment section of the Shaderoom.

She felt her stomach drop when she pulled up the page to find a video of her, Jaz, and Raven that had, obviously, been taken without their knowledge or permission. Turning on the sound, she clearly heard herself singing, loudly as she waved around the bottle of whiskey that the trio had split between them,

_“Yeah, the old me used to love a Gemini  
Like a threesome fuckin’ with him every night  
A lotta two-faced people show me both sides  
So I figured out I gotta be my own type  
They used to say, “To get a man, you gotta know how to look”  
They used to say, “To keep a man, you had to know how to cook”  
But I’m solo in Soho, sippin’ Soju with Malibu  
It’s a me, myself kinda attitude”_

Bile began to rise up in her throat as she took in the caption that read, “ _Guess those lyrics hit differently when you’re going through a divorce.”_

She exited out of the app with a groan. She pulled up Chris’s number and hit dial, hoping that he either wouldn’t answer the phone or that she’d get to him before he saw the post.

“With the amount of whiskey that was gone from that bottle, I expected not to hear from you until noon,” he greeted, picking up after the second ring.

“So…" she drew out, “you’ve seen it?”

“Scott spent the night last night,” he answered. “Woke up to a ton of notifications for the video.”

“Hey, at least you got to see Raven attempt to slow down my drinking,” she quipped, “Should get her some points back in the win column, right?”

Chris was not amused, “You really want to try joking about this right now?”

“Chris, I’m so sorry,” Deja lamented. “You know I never would have posted something like that. Jaz and Raven too. Literally, the only thing we posted last night was us singing Juice and my reaction to Missy Eliot joining Lizzo on stage.” 

“We’ve been together for over three years, Dea. This isn’t new to you. It was stupid and reckless not to be concerned about someone filming you especially since we’re going through a divorce and every gossip outlet wants an inside scoop,” he scolded. 

Annoyance washed over her and she sat up straighter. Her tone was glacial as she replied, “I understand that this doesn’t look good, Christopher, so I’m giving you a pass. That is the only time in this conversation that you’re going to disrespect me. Watch how you address me.” 

Chris was prepared to argue but stopped short when he remembered what their therapist had said about how they approached issues. He took a deep breath to calm down before he responded, “I’m sorry. You should be able to cut loose with your friends and let off some steam without having your privacy violated. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Deja felt a small weight lift off of her shoulders at his response. She’d known that wanting to be an author would cause her to be in the public eye a bit, but not to the degree that being Chris’ wife had brought and trying not to be caught unaware was something she had always struggled with when she’d spent so long being able to just live her life without thought to how it looked from the outside looking in.

The sense of dread that had taken residence in her stomach began to dissipate and she spoke softly, "You’re right. I should be able to loosen up without wondering who is around, but the moment I married you, that became a pipe dream. I know that and I should have acted accordingly.” She fidgeted with the blanket that laid across her lap as she tried to gather her thoughts, “Look, I’m not…I wasn’t super into that song or any of the other’s that may have been captured on video because I hate you or anything like that. You know I’ve loved Lizzo’s music for years. I got to meet her for the first time right before she went on stage and I was just so hype about that. I mean, you’ve seen me belt out all of her songs just like in the videos in our kitchen while I was making you dinner. It just looks bad because of the divorce and the fact that you actually are a Gemini, but I was just hype because I was side stage for one of my favorite artists.” 

Chris nodded, “We need to talk strategy if you’re up for it, but I’ve got one question before we do.”

“I am absolutely up for talking damage control because if my Aunt Cookie sends me one more damn TMZ article talking about, _‘I’ve got my congregation praying for y’all, sweetheart’_ , Chris.” Deja complained as Chris laughed, “As for your question, shoot.”

“Did you cry when Missy hit the stage?”

“Babe, I bawled like a big damn baby,” she exclaimed, “I also got to meet her and get a picture with her. I’m sure I embarrassed myself but she’s amazing. And so nice!”

The actor couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face. Both at her joy at meeting one of her idols and at the use the term of endearment that he hadn’t heard from her in almost a year, “I’m glad you finally got to meet her. So, how do you want to play this?”

“Are you at our house?” she questioned.

“Yep,” he affirmed.

“Good. Grab Dodger and post up on the couch in front of that big ass wedding photo your Momma got printed for us,” she instructed. “I’ll facetime you and take a picture. Toss it up on Instagram with a cute caption and viola…crisis somewhat averted.”

“Oh, you mean that big ass wedding photo that you picked out for my Mom to get us?” he teased.

“Momma Lisa and I both told you that I had nothing to do with that,” she denied.

“Mmmhmm. You two are really going to try to take the secret of this gaudy monstrosity to the grave huh?” he asked as he made his way to the living room.

“I’m hanging up, Christopher. Show me my dog!” she exclaimed before hanging up.

Chris flopped down on their couch and called Dodger over to him. He quickly pulled up Deja’s contact and she picked up almost instantaneously. He was greeted by the sight of Deja with her bonnet slightly askew, one of her fake eyelashes barely hanging on for dear life, and dark circles under her eyes that made it very apparent that she hadn’t taken off her eyeliner before going to bed. He couldn’t contain his laughter as he quipped, "I guess that whiskey and bedtime routine hits differently when you’re going through a divorce.”

Deja rubbed her temple and grimaced, “Do you have to be so loud, Chris? It’s too early for you to be this energetic.” She pulled down her bonnet, so he was on straight, “I was going to clean up but I figured this is my penance for getting caught up in the first place. Thankfully, I’ll be the small square in this. Now, show me, my favorite boy"

Chris looked down, but didn’t move the camera as he said, “You hear that Dodger? Momma wants to see her favorite boy. Guess you’ll have to talk to her later.”

She giggled as she scolded, “Christopher Robert, I am way too hungover and it is way too early for you to be playing on my phone.”

He laughed as leaned back slightly so Dodger could enter the frame, “Look who it is? Is that our favorite girl?”

“Been a minute since you called me that,” she observed as a sense of warmth enveloped her.

“Just because I haven’t said it doesn’t mean it’s changed,” he nonchalantly replied as he tried to get Dodger to look directly into the camera.

When he realized who was on the screen, Dodger tried to paw the camera while Chris grinned behind him. It was the perfect opportunity for a screenshot.

“Your fangirls are going to love this shot,” Deja said with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” he absentmindedly questioned as he motioned for Dodger to lay down.

Deja leaned back against the headboard, “You shirtless with a cute dog? I can hear the fanfic writers powering up their laptops as we speak.”

Chris felt himself begin to blush, “I wasn’t shirtless on purpose. I honestly didn’t think about it.”

“I know,” she softly smiled at him, “but I like making you blush. It’s cute.”

She watched her husband chew his lip, trying to decide how he was going to respond to her statement. He started to open his mouth but was interrupted by a loud noise on Deja’s end. He could faintly hear the muffled sound of Raven’s voice calling out his wife’s name.

Deja yelled out for Raven to give her a second before returning her attention to Chris, “I should go. Raven and Jaz have probably seen the video and are trying to check in on me. I’ll get that screenshot posted to Instagram in the next five minutes. I’ll text you after I share it to Twitter too so you can retweet it.”

“Okay,” he nodded, but grabbed her attention before she hung up, “Hey Dea.”

“Yeah?” she asked as she started to climb out of bed.

“I watched your panel. You were fantastic,” he told her.

His compliment stopped her in her tracks, “You watched?”

Another knock rang out through her room before he could respond. This time, he could hear both Jaz and Raven calling for her, “You should go.”

Ignoring her friends, she tried to address his earlier statement, “Chris, y-“

“We can talk about it when you get home. Have fun and try to stay out of the tabloids today, alright?” he teased before hanging up.

Deja quickly made her way to her hotel room door, slinging it open and greeting her friends with, “I am going to strangle _both_ of you!”

* * *

Chris scratched his beard, a gentle smile on his face as he replayed the conversation over in his head. His phone dinged and he saw a text from Deja letting him know she’d shared the photo to her social media. He pulled up her twitter to see the screenshot of him and Dodger with a caption that read:

_When you’re hungover, far from home, looking a HOT mess and your husband is nice enough to let you spend some morning time with your dog. 💖_ _#SorryMeg #CantHangWithTheHotGirls #ItsARoomTempSummerForMe_

He chuckled as he retweeted and added _‘Anytime.’_


	5. LCTWTO 5

Chris sat up from where he was lounging on the couch at the sound of the door opening. Confusion washed over him as he took in Deja rolling in her luggage, “I thought you wouldn’t be in until later tonight.”

Deja shrugged as she parked her bag beside the door and made her way over to the couch. She flopped down beside Chris before she answered, “That was the original plan, but they were predicting bad weather at my layover, so I moved up to an earlier flight.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you made it home safely.” Chris looked down at the floor, “Give me about fifteen or so minutes and Dodger and I will be out of your hair.”

“No rush,” she said with a small wave, “I’m about to take a shower. You know how I feel about flying. I need to wash all the traveling off me.”

Concerned, he asked, “Have you eaten yet?”

Deja sighed as she sat up and rolled her neck, “Just a bagel before I hopped on my first flight. My layover wasn’t long enough to grab food.”

“Why don’t you go shower and I’ll order some food for you,” Chris suggested, a soft smile settled over his face as he looked down at his wife.

Deja felt the familiar sense of butterflies take flight in her stomach when she noticed the way that he was looking at her. Pain radiated across her chest and she struggled for a few seconds to breathe. Everything about the scene playing out before her felt comfortable.

Felt normal.

Felt like home.

But this wasn’t who they were anymore.

She stood, turning away from Chris and headed towards the kitchen, “You don’t have to do this.”

”Do what?” Chris questioned as he followed behind her.

She leaned against the counter and looked him dead in the eyes, “Take care of me. I’m not your obligation anymore.”

Chris shook his head, unsure of how quickly they’d reached another argument, “You’ve never been an obligation, Dea.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms, “Let me be honest then. I can’t do _this_ with you.”

“Do what?” Chris stalked towards her, stopping just a few inches in front of her, “Be nice to each other? Have an honest conversation? Is it really that hard for you to be around me, without a therapist playing referee, for more than ten minutes?”

“What are you hoping an ‘honest conversation’ is going to accomplish?” Deja brushed passed him, opened the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of water as she snapped, “It’s just going to leave us exactly where we are. I love you and you love me and yet, that wasn’t enough. It isn’t going to suddenly become enough just because we sit on somebody’s couch for an hour a week.”

Frustrated, Chris ran his hands through his hair as he ground out, “Friends, Deja. I want us to be able to be friends when this is all over.”

“And there he is,” Deja slammed her bottle of water on the table, “There is my darling husband who cares so much about what he wants but couldn’t care less about what I want. Between the encouragement before I left and they way you handled the video incident, I thought maybe he’d disappeared, but there he is. Just lurking under the surface.”

Chris angrily shook his head, “Do you care to even clue me in on what exactly we’re arguing about? Once again, _I’m_ the bad guy and I couldn’t begin to tell you what is so rage inducing about me wanting to be able to be your friend after the divorce is settled.”

She took a moment to push her curls out of her face. Her tone was cold as she explained, “I don’t want to be your friend, Christopher. I did not stand before God, my family, your family, my friends, and your friends and vow to be ‘just friends’ with you. I vowed to be your wife and if that’s not my role in your life, then I don’t want one.” She watched as hurt flashed across her husband’s face, but she continued, needed him to understand exactly where they were headed, “We don’t have kids. I don’t want your money. There is nothing to tie us together once the ink dries. There is no reason for me to ever come back to Boston once the ink dries. There is nothing for me here once the ink dries and I really think you need to prepare yourself for that.”

Chris’ eyes darkened and Deja felt a chill settle into the room with them. Her usually animated husband was stoic as he questioned, “So my family just means nothing to you? They love you. They consider you their daughter; their sister; their _aunt._ Or will it be just as easy for you to walk away from them as it was for you to walk away from me.”

“You don’t get to ask me that,” she asserted.

“Usually I’d move on, but we’ve already established that I’m the bad guy,” he spat as he planted both hands on their kitchen table as he stared her down. “Answer me, Deja Rae. It’s gonna be that easy for you?”

“What choice do I have?” Deja answered through gritted teeth. “ _You gave up!_ You don’t get to blame me for this.”

“ _YOU LEFT_ ,” Chris roared as he slammed his hands down on the table, “You waited until I was gone for a week and let me come back to an empty house. You didn’t tell mom or any of my siblings. You didn’t tell your parents. You ignored my texts messages and phone calls and only responded after I contacted Jaz and Raven to tell them that if they didn’t know where you were then I was going to file a missing person’s report with the police. You left for months and refused to speak to me, Deja.” He stood to his full height as he demanded, “How long was I supposed to wait? Was I supposed to just wait here, patiently, until you got done throwing your little temper tantrum about your stupid book.”

Chris watched as the hurt itched itself onto his wife’s face. All the anger and pain he’d been feeling toward her, instantly dissipated as he realized exactly what he’d said during his rant. He moved toward her and cringed when she recoiled, “Dea, you know I didn’t mean that.”

“Get your shit and get out of this house,” she spat as she moved past him.

He followed in hot pursuit, “Dea, baby, y-“

She rounded on him, “I’m going to take a shower. Do not be here when I come down or I will call the authorities to have you removed. Per the paperwork from the separation hearing, I have the house temporarily which means you will be trespassing if I have to get the cops involved.”

He held his hands up in surrender and tried to keep pleading with her, “Dea, I’m so-“

“For the record,” she spoke over him and Chris felt his chest constrict when he realized she was crying, “the reason I was gone so long is because no matter how much time you’ve spent trying to convince yourself and others that you are a supportive husband, I’ve always known that you felt like my book and podcast was a hobby and not an accomplishment. I wasn’t throwing a temper tantrum. I was trying to come to terms that the love of my life would never be truly supportive of the grandest work of my life.” She wiped her face before crossing her arms, “I guess instead of being angry that you filed, I should be thankful that you made sure I didn’t have to.”

Chris couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t cause more damage as Deja turned and made her way up the stairs.

* * *

“Well, son, you really know how to put your foot in your mouth, don’t ya?” Lisa commented after Chris had filled her in on the argument that he’d had with Deja a few hours prior.

He hadn’t intended on telling her. Had immediately went to his room when he got home and stayed there for a few hours.

But moms always know when there’s something wrong.

She’d let him stew for a few hours and then asked him to come down and help her get dinner started. She’d gently poked and prodded until it had all came tumbling out.

“Ma, it’s like I don’t know how to be around her anymore. I used to be able to be open and vulnerable with her and, now, every single time I open my mouth, I manage to piss her off, hurt her, or both,” he lamented.

“Oh honey,” Lisa shook her head as she added spices to the pot in front of her, “You could maybe start by not referring to her work as stupid. It won’t stop all your arguments, but it would probably curtail more than a few.”

“You know I don’t think her work is stupid,” Chris argued.

“I know that. I think deep down, she knows that too.” Lisa agreed before she continued, “But I don’t necessarily think you’re as supportive as you claim to be, and I think she knows that too.”

His head snapped up, “What do you mean? How have I not been supportive? She didn’t like the terms two publishers gave her, so I offered to have it printed and published on our own dime. You don’t get more supportive than that.”

Lisa let him sit with that statement as she added chopped onions to the dish before she put the lid on and turned the heat down to simmer. She stood opposite of where her son sat, the kitchen island between them, “My darling son, did you ever think to ask her why she turned down those two publishers?”

“Does it matter? She didn’t like their terms. What more is there to know,” he reasoned.

“It feels wrong to say this is why you’re headed for a divorce when I know you’re hurting,” Lisa leaned her hip against the countertop, “but this is exactly why you’re headed for a divorce. Ask yourself this, Christopher. In the years you and Dea have been together, anytime you’ve turned down a movie, whether it’s acting, filming, or producing, what has been her first question to you?”

“She always asks me why,” he answered.

“She asks because she cares enough to want to know why you weren’t on board with something that you, presumably, were initially excited about. Because she _supports_ you and the things you want to pursue,” his mother explained.

Understanding washed over Chris, “And by not asking her in return, she felt like I didn’t care.”

“Amongst other things.” Lisa expounded, “And then you decided to try to throw money at it instead of asking her what she needed from you.” She reached across the island and patted his hand, “Son, I love you deeply, but you have dropped the ball in every single way when it comes to being supportive of her work.”

Chris sighed, letting his head drop back as he rubbed his eyes, “And I keep belittling it to get a rise out of her whenever we argue which isn’t helping my case.”

“Maybe you should ask that therapist of yours why that’s your go to finishing move whenever you two start bickering,” she suggested.

He rested his elbows on the counter, his head in his hands, “Don’t need to. It’s my go to move because it’s the only thing I know that’s going to hurt her the way I feel she’s hurting me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Lisa inquired.

“Anything, Ma,” he answered.

“Has there been even one instance where you’ve done that, and you felt good about it?” Lisa probed.

“Not once,” Chris stood, “I have a phone call I need to make.”

Lisa’s eyebrow rose in response, “You think she’s going to answer?”

“Probably not. I’ll just apologize to her voicemail.” Chris pushed back from the island, “It’s not like I don’t have practice with that.”

A soft sigh fell from Lisa’s lips as she watched her son retreat to his room. She hoped for both her children’s sakes that they were able to reach a middle ground soon.

* * *

“I cannot believe you are siding with him!” Deja flopped back against the sea of pillows that occupied her bed.

“I’m not siding with him,” Jaz defended, on the other end of the line, “But I’m not going to be your hype woman either when you weren’t completely in the right.”

“Bump that,” Raven dismissed as she nudged Jaz shoulder to take up more room in the frame “I _am_ siding with him. You came at him sideways and he responded in kind. This one’s on you, Dea.”

“You realize this man still holds _TMZ_ uncovering our divorce papers against you, right?” she retorted.

“Which is a completely separate issue from the matter at hand,” Raven replied, “and it’s childish of you to try to compound the two.”

Jaz sensed this exchange had the potential to turn ugly, so she interjected, “Dea, what exactly set you off in the first place?”

Deja took a few moments to gather her thoughts before she explained, “It felt like it used to. Like every other time I’d come home from seeing you two. And, maybe that was my fault for not letting him know I was taking an earlier flight, so he’d be gone before I got home, but I didn’t expect it to feel that way. I was prepared for it to be awkward. I figured it’d be awkward for a few moments, I’d love on Dodger before they left, and then I’d settle in, alone. I just…” Deja felt tears pool in her eyes, “It was everything it used to be. I can’t be okay being alone if I keep seeing glimpses of what we used to be.”

“Oh, baby girl,” Raven turned the phone, so she was the only one in frame, “Look at me.”

Deja wiped her eyes before she stared at her on the screen, “I’ve been debating whether or not I wanted to say this for a while. And by awhile, I mean ever since you rolled into DC after the whole book fiasco so know that this comes from a place of love and contemplation.” Raven waited until Deja nodded in acknowledgement before she gently spoke, “You and Chris had this whirlwind romance and believe me, I still think it was 100 percent the timeline that fit for the both of you. But, he’s not perfect. He’s also not a mind reader. Almost every disappointment you’ve charged to him is just as easily attributed to the fact that you haven’t communicated to him what you need and why you’re upset.” Deja started to disagree, but Raven continued, “Let me finish, sis. You’re angry that he didn’t support you better with the book and you were angry that he just dismissed your frustrations over a publishing house by offering to pay for it, but you never told him _why_. You no longer wanted to be the only person flying out when you two were separated by his work, but you never actually told him that. Today, you could have just told him that it hurt too much to have him there, but you picked an argument instead. Yes, he could do a better job of asking, but you could do a better job of communicating.”

“Are you done?” Deja asked. Raven nodded and Deja spoke, “I know he’s not a mind reader. And I am perfectly aware of my own shortcomings in all of this. But, Raven, I’m tired. I deserve someone that considers me. He appreciates all my sacrifices. Always has, but he never makes them. Every decision is based out of how much can I give up and I am…tired. Running to DC may have been childish, but it was the first time I made a move that wasn’t about pleasing him. He didn’t have any projects and he couldn’t even be bothered to fly up and try to ask me to come home in person. I, at least, deserved that.”

“ _Then tell him_ ,” Jaz pushed. “At this point, realistically, what do you have to lose? If he’s been a damn disappointment all these years than let him know so that _you_ can actually start healing.”

Silence washed over the trio and several minutes passed before Raven spoke up, “Dea, I get not bringing all this up out of the blue, but promise us that if the opportunity comes up in a therapy session, you’ll speak up.”

Deja nodded, “I think I can do that.”

“That’s my girl,” Jaz replied.

“Hey, let me call you two back,” Deja said, “Chris is calling.”

“Oh!” Raven exclaimed, “Let him beg and grovel and then actually forgive him. He’s losing the best thing to every happen to him. You gotta give my mans some leeway.”

“Blames. You. _TMZ_.” Deja retorted.

“Still a separate issue! Bye!” Raven countered before ending the video call.

Deja shook her head as she swiped to answer her husband’s call, “Hello.”

“Hey,” Chris greeted.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Yeah, actually.” Chris took a deep breath, “I need to apologize to you. Look, I know we were both angry, but I’m the one that crossed the line. Your book is brilliant, and I know I didn’t understand all the nuances because it wasn’t written with me as the intended audience, but I’ve seen how people who were your intended audience have responded to it. I get called Deja Moore’s husband on Twitter at least twice a day since it came out. I’m proud of you. Really, I am.”

“I wish I believed you.” Deja didn’t bother to collect the tears that had began to stream down her face, “But I don’t. And that’s not me rejecting your apology. I know you’re sorry. I’ll even be gracious enough to say that you truly feel bad about saying it. But I don’t know that I buy you being proud of me. I don’t know that you know how to be.”

“What does that even mean?” Chris questioned.

“I think you like the idea of having a successful wife more than the actual practice of it,” Deja cut him off before he could interject, “And I’m not slamming you for that, Chris. A relationship with two career driven people is going to require sacrifice from both sides and I don’t think either one of us thought that all the way through.”

A few minutes passed before he spoke, “I don’t know what to say to that, Dea.”

“I don’t expect you to,” she replied as she rolled over on her side, “I should go.”

“Good-night, Deja.”

“Good-night, Chris.”


	6. LCTWTO 6

Deja took a deep breath as she turned her key into the lock. As she walked in, she could feel her anxiety rise. She shook her head and reminded herself that she had an open invitation to visit at any time and had personally been invited to be there this evening.

She could hear her in-laws gathered in the living room and took a turn towards the kitchen, hoping to find Lisa so she wouldn’t have to walk into the room alone. When she entered the kitchen area, she found her sister-in-law, Carly, rummaging through the fridge instead.

Carly turned at the sound of someone entering the kitchen and smiled wide when she saw it was Deja, “Well, well, look who actually took me up on my game night invite?”

Deja leaned against the wall and shrugged, “The way I see it, I’ve only got a few more months to enjoy kicking y’alls asses sooooo…”

The other woman rolled her eyes and shook her head, “You mean you’ve only got a few more months to cheat your way to victory?”

“You have zero proof that Chris and I have ever cheated to win,” she replied with a pointed look.

“I don’t have proof, but I _know_ , Deja Evans, I _know,_ ” Carly accused as she slung an arm around Deja and began to lead her into the living room.

Deja couldn’t help but laugh. Her retort was cut off by the sounds of kids squealing, “AUNT DEA!!!”

Deja instantly dropped to their level, with open arms. She immediately found herself tackled to the ground as the kids dog-piled on top of her with an enthusiasm that filled her with joy.

Most eyes in the room were on Deja and the kids, but Shanna watched her brother’s guarded reaction. She nudged him and whispered, “You’re an actor. Surely you could pretend to be happy to see her.”

He crossed his arms before he nudged her with his shoulder, “I’m the one that told Carly to invite her, remember?”

His sister crossed her arms, mocking his stance, “Then maybe you should act like it?”

As Scott and Carly pulled the kids off of Deja, she quickly popped up. She gave Scott a quick side-hug before she headed over to Shanna and Chris. Shanna opened her arms and Deja immediately fell into the embrace.

“Glad you made it out, Belle,” she greeted as she gave Deja a slight squeeze.

Deja squeezed back, thankful to hear the nickname Shanna and Carly had given her upon their first meeting when they’d discovered that Deja still very much spoke with a southern drawl despite having lived in D.C. for almost a decade.

Deja pulled back and turned towards Chris, “Can I talk to you outside for a second?”

“Sure,” he nodded before heading towards the backyard. He slid open the patio doors and waited for Deja to exit through them before he joined her. He made sure the blinds were drawn inside the doors before he slid them closed so they would have some privacy. 

He watched as Deja fidgeted with the hem of her sweater as she tried to gather her thoughts. A few moments passed before she softly spoke, “It won’t be easy.” 

Confusion flashed across his face, “What won’t be easy?”

“Walking away from your family. You’ve met mine. We love each other but we’re…complicated. Your family just took me in and loved me. Hard. Still, do. But when this ends,” she gestured between the two of them, “you will find someone else. Our issues notwithstanding, you are meant to be in a relationship. You thrive there. Alone isn’t something you do well. That’s not a judgment, Chris. It just…is.” Deja avoided Chris’ gaze, “You’ll bring her here. She’ll have game nights and family dinners and Disney trips and there won’t be any room for me. I know they’d never cut me off, but I don’t want to be that ex that’s still hanging around and making things uncomfortable. Losing them at the same time as you is rough but to have to say goodbye to them further down the road because you’ve moved on?” She finally looked at her husband directly, eyes bright with unshed tears, “The idea of it seems devastating. I can’t even imagine having to live through it.” 

Chris spoke gently, trying to measure his tone so it didn’t come off as accusatory, “If that’s the case, then why are you here?”

She wiped her eyes and took a shaky breath, “I was working on the homework that Dr. Lindquist gave us. It helped me realize that in my effort to protect myself from hurting more, I’ve been doing the opposite. You were wrong for what you said to me the other night, but it never would have gotten there if I’d just been honest with you. I got defensive because it felt like old times. Good times. And it hurts when that happens because it gives me a snapshot of what we’re giving up. Because I _do_ love you. I do. If I didn’t or if you didn’t, this would be easier. This would make sense.” She tucked a braid behind her ear, “But we do and it doesn’t and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“I don’t either, Dea,” Chris admitted as he stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. 

She took a few steps closer to him as she spoke, “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to be your friend, Chris. I just…can’t. Because I honestly can’t imagine a day where I don’t see you and want more. I’m looking at you right now and we are as broken as we’ve ever been and I still want more from you, from us.”

“I don’t like the idea of never seeing you again, Deja.” Chris reached out and grabbed her hand, thankful that she didn’t shy away from him, “You matter to me and I don’t like the idea that, one day, I won’t have any clue what’s going on with you.”

“Nonsense, you can always check my twitter,” she teased with a laugh but stopped short when he didn’t join her. She gave his hand a soft squeeze, “Look, I can’t promise to be your friend after this is all over, but I can commit to trying to end things well, in the here and now instead of picking fights at every turn.”

“I’d like that,” he conceded. 

“Good,” she nodded as she slung her arm around his waist and waited for him to toss his arm over her shoulder, “Now let’s go remind your siblings that we run this shit.”

Laughter spilled from Chris’ mouth as the pair headed back inside, “Let’s do it.”

* * *

Dr. Lundquist nodded to both Deja and Chris as she adjusted her glasses, “How are you two doing this week?”

Chris spoke for both, “Pretty good. Had a few arguments, but we managed to talk it through.”

“Good. Did both of you do your homework?” They both nodded in the affirmative, “Chris, why don’t you start. Let’s go in the order of what have you received from Deja, what have you given to Deja, and ending with what troubles and difficulties have I caused Deja.”

Chris cleared his throat before he spoke, “I’ve gotten a lot from Deja but the biggest thing would be her support. She’s my biggest cheerleader. I had a lot of uncertainty when my Marvel contract ran out. There aren’t many people I was willing to admit it to, but I was a little worried that Captain America was all I could play. She helped me see past that fear and go for roles I wanted instead of what I felt would be watered down versions of Steve Rogers. She has also been a source of peace. My mind can go in a million different directions. She’s always been able to keep me anchored in the here and now. It’s made me a better person.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds before he continued, “As for what I’ve given her, I’d say family. I know that seems less about me, but her family dynamic can be stressful. Mine are a bunch of goofballs who really dig each other as people and not just as family and I think that’s been good for her. I’ve given her financial security so she can truly focus on the goals and plans that she’s had for most of her life. As for the trouble and difficulties I’ve caused, I don’t think I’ve been as invested her goals as I should have been. It’s taken some time, but I’m starting to see that making room for her to be able to pursue those things isn’t the same as being involved and interested in them and that I should have been doing both.”

“That’s a really good reflection, Chris,” Dr. Lundquist complimented as she made a few notes, “Deja, do you think those are accurate assessments?”

“Yeah, I think so,” she agreed.

“Deja, your turn.”

She shifted in the chair as she spoke, “I feel like he does about having received a lot from him. I think the thing that’s been the most important to me is loyalty. I don’t necessarily have trust issues, but I’ve had a lot of relationships—romantic, platonic, and business—end in ways that have made me cautious. I’ve never had to question that he will do what he says he’s going to do. Despite the times we’ve spent apart because of careers, I’ve always known that no matter who he’s with or what temptation may pop up, he’s always going to respect me and our marriage. My answer to what I’ve given him mirrors what he said. I think I’ve been a safe place and a sounding board for his career and a cheerleader when he’s branched out to try directing and producing. I love his family, but most of his worries about that sort of thing are met with constant cheerleading while I let him have the fear and the doubts and we sat with them to work through them which is something I don’t think he really had before I entered the picture.” She toyed with one of her braids, “As for the troubles and difficulties that I’ve caused, I’ve come the realization that I just expect him to know what I need from him without having to communicate that to him and then I react based out of the unmet expectations that he isn’t aware he’s missing. I think that tendency has made it so he’s always in defensive mode when it comes to any conversations we have because he feels like every argument we have comes out of the left field and he needs to have his guard up.”

She made a few notes as she asked, “Chris, would you agree with that?”

Chris nodded, “Absolutely.”

Dr. Lundquist regarded both parties, “I appreciate that both of you really put thought into the homework. Deja, you mentioned communication. I’m glad that you did. One of the questions I had you two answer was whether you both felt you could communicate with one another. Deja, you stated that you choose not to actively communicate with Chris. However, do you feel like you could communicate with him if you’d give him the chance?”

Deja took a few moments to think about how she wanted to answer the question. After a minute or two passed, she spoke hesitantly, “I feel like he listens to respond. He hears me and could probably repeat the things I say to him, word for word. But it feels like on certain issues, he isn’t making the effort to comprehend what I’m saying. There are things I’d love to talk to him about, but his response to my initial statements keeps me from going deeper because he doesn’t seem interested in it.”

“Can you be more specific? Give me an example,” she probed.

She nodded, “My book is the clearest example I have of it. I turned down two different publishing houses and not once did he ask why. His solution was to just throw money at it instead of trying to sit with me in my fear and doubts like I’ve done with him countless times.”

Chris started to speak, but Dr. Lundquist motioned for him to wait as she advised, “Marriage isn’t about keeping score, Deja. That’s where resentment takes root and grows. If he isn’t meeting a need you have, that’s fair game, but comparing his failure in this aspect to your success isn’t going to help. Especially when you’ve admitted that there are areas where he’s succeeded in meeting your needs and you’ve fallen short. Both of you keeping score is part of the reason this has gotten to this point. You both need to make a conscious effort to be the best partner that you can and that not be dependent on whether or not the other person is doing the same. You should always advocate for your needs to be met, but not keeping a tally is how you’re able to keep the issues strictly about the issue.” She nodded towards Chris, “Do you feel like you can communicate with her?”

“No. I feel as if my words will always be twisted and it doesn’t matter what I meant; it just matters how she took it. Even when I try to clarify, she always takes it as if I’m backtracking. Which, sometimes, I am because I went too far, but not always. It seems as if she’s committed to thinking the worst of me and my intentions so I can never come out the good guy,” Chris expressed.

Dr. Lundquist looked at Deja, “How do you feel about that assessment, Deja?”

“Honestly?” she questioned, “He’s not wrong. Right now, I _do_ think the worst of him than I ever have. I trust him not to cheat. I trust him to provide for me financially. But I don’t trust him with my innermost dreams and aspirations which are a huge part of who I am. And, I’ll admit, I’m angry that I can’t trust him with those things because we’re supposed to be a team.”

Chris saw an opening to ask what he’d failed to question in the past and queried, “Why did you turn down the first two publishing houses?”

She shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Deja, that’s not fair to Chris,” Dr. Lundquist interjected. “You can’t tell him he’s failed you in an area and then push him away when he’s trying to rectify it. I think part of the reason you don’t communicate with him about what you need is that you feel like if you have to ask for it, then it doesn’t mean as much. Some people carry emotional intelligence and can sense what the other person needs. I think you’re that way and you get frustrated with Chris because he doesn’t anticipate your needs with the same accuracy that you anticipate his.”

Deja let herself process what the therapist had just advised. She took in a deep breath and turned towards Chris before she spoke, “I turned them down because they didn’t want me. They wanted you.” Hurt washed over her as she explained, “I wake up every single day as the less important spouse as far as the world is concerned. Literally, every article I’ve ever been featured in refers to me as ‘Chris Evans’ wife’. It’s why I decided to go by my maiden name when it comes to my podcast, blog, and book. Those first two publishers offered to publish my book but only if I used Deja Evans because it would "appeal to a wider audience” and sell more books.” A hollow laugh fell from her lips, “They didn’t want _me._ They wanted my proximity to you even though the book is about my experience moving throughout this world as a dark-skinned black woman. That experience has nothing to do with you, but they wanted to involve you in the process. The publisher I eventually went with was more than okay with me using my maiden name. They didn’t ask me to have you take an active role in marketing. They didn’t want to center you amid _my_ story and hard work.” She paused for a moment to try to dissipate the weight of bitterness that often settled in her chest when she thought about the imbalance in their marriage. Her voice was softer as she continued, “I know that Mackie carries the mantle now, but you _are_ Steve Rogers. People know you, adore you, and to hear your fans tell it, I’m just the girl who was lucky enough to have punched way above her weight. People rarely look at us and see me. The publisher I ended up with saw me and thought I was good enough all on my own.” A heavy sigh proceeded her next statements, “That’s why I was so pissed when you suggested self-publishing and marketing. Yes, we have the money for that, but had that happened, my work would have forever been tied to you and your influence. Add to the fact that you got mad at me about my book tour taking place when you were filming so I wouldn’t be able to follow you to Atlanta like a good little housewife and I just…I couldn’t stand the idea that all I had become was your sidekick.”

Silence fell over the room as Dr. Lundquist and Chris digested Deja’s answer. Chris started to reach for her hand, but stopped short as he questioned, “Deja, why didn’t you tell me any of that?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Because you didn’t ask and it didn’t seem like you cared, Chris. Those other publishers only saw your wife when they looked at me and our conversations made me feel like that was all that you saw too. I wanted you to see me and I wanted you to care and I didn’t want to have to beg you for either one of those things.” She wrung her hands together as she admitted, “I know I shouldn’t have left the way I did, but I felt like I was drowning in you. We live in your house in your hometown. We spend all our time with your family and your friends. Much as I love him, Dodger is your dog. I drive your car and spend your money. I just…I needed to find me again and I couldn’t do that here. That’s why I went to D.C. I needed to in the place I chose to call home with the people I chose to call family.”

Hurt flashed across Chris’ face as he voiced, “So nothing about the life we’ve built together feels like home?”

“No, it does,” she quickly assured him. “It’s…it’s just different. You know how anytime we go back to my hometown and you say that it brings out a different side of me?” She waited for Chris to nod before she resumed speaking, “It’s kind of like that. Boston is home. Your family and friends don’t just treat me like one of their own. I am one of their own. I know that. I do. And I love them, deeply. I just feel like there’s a version of me that only gets to breathe when I’m apart from you. That only gets to _freely exist_ when I’m around people who knew me before you. Who were championing and cheering me on when I was recording podcasts in my bathroom because it was the only room with good acoustics. As much as I love you, Chris, I really really miss getting to be her. You dated her. You fell in love with her. But I don’t know if you know how to be married to her and that’s why I went to D.C. I realized that and I was trying to figure out if I could keep sacrificing that part of me to be the wife you’ve had for the past few years.”

Afraid of the answer, he cautiously questioned, “And did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t have to,” she answered, “You filed and made the decision for me.”

Chris sat back in his chair at the admission. His mind was racing a thousand miles a minute and so many emotions were swirling around inside of him.

Confusion.

Guilt.

Remorse.

All of them tied together with an undercurrent of pain and indignation.

Dr. Lundquist let a few minutes pass before she gently broached, “Chris, tell me what you’re thinking right now, having learned all of this.”

“You want my honest answer?” he asked, running his hand through his hair.

Dr. Lundquist nodded, “That’s what this space is for. To be honest and for me to help you two work through it.”

He tugged on his beard for a few seconds before he spoke, knowing that it wasn’t going to be the answer that Deja wanted to hear, “I think it’s unfair. I was expected to respond to issues I didn’t even know we were having and then punished when I didn’t respond correctly. I asked her to move to Boston, I never demanded it. And yes, I have a house here. Yes, my family is here. But I also live a lot of my life out of a suitcase. If she needed to be in D.C. to feel more like herself and to feel more supported, we could have figured out a schedule that works for us. If she felt like all the world was seeing was our marriage, we both could have cut back on social media. Do you many friends do we have that have happy marriages but don’t boast about them on the internet? We could have made that work, too. I hear her. She felt like she was being eclipsed by me. I have never wanted or required that and it’s insulting that this whole entire scenario reads like I expected her to give up all sense of self to fit into my life.” He turned towards his wife, “Deja, you had a hand in building the dynamics of our marriage. If they needed to change, okay. Things evolve over time, but how was running away from me going to make that happen?”

Deja immediately looked down at the ground, only looking up when the therapist spoke, “Deja, I think that’s a fair question.”

“It is,” she acquiesced, “But I don’t know how to answer it.”

After a brief glance at the clock, Dr. Lunquist spoke, “I think this is a good place to end. For your homework, Deja, I want you to really think about Chris’ question and see if you can find an answer. Chris, I want you to think about the dynamics of your marriage for the past few years and see if you can spot where they’ve been unhealthy for Deja, but beneficial for you. No need to stop at the receptionists’ desk if you both are available for the same time and date next week.“

Both parties stood and made their way down the hall. Silence engulfed both of them as they walked to the parking lot.

* * *

Deja was surprised that Chris walked her to the car after such a brutal session. He used his own key fob to unlock her door and opened it for her as he softly spoke, “So…our anniversary is Friday. “

“That it is,” she confirmed as she crossed her arms to embrace herself.

“Last one we’re gonna have,” he observed.

She nodded, “That it is.”

He reached out and toyed with one of her braids, “Dea, don’t shut me out.”

“What do you want me to say?” He could hear the weariness woven into every syllable as she spoke, “Am I supposed to say that I’m dreading it because it just makes me think of how we failed so I’m going to start drinking the biggest bottle of whiskey that I can find as soon as I wake up and will probably end up a bawling boozy mess under that big ass portrait from our wedding day in our living room. Care to join me?”

“That an actual invitation?” he questioned as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

She eyed him, incredulously, “You cannot be serious, Christopher.”

“Look, the way I see it, Friday is going to be weird.” He shrugged, “My family is going to be awkwardly walking around on eggshells with me, trying to figure out if they should mention it or not. You know they’re going to text you with random conversation because they don’t know if they should mention it to you or not, but they also want to make sure you’re okay. You’re the only person who’s going to understand how I’m feeling so why not just spend the day being weird together?”

She mulled it over for a few moments before she asked, “Can I think about it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just let me know, okay? I’ll even spring for that battery acid you call whiskey.”

Drawl showing up in full force, she defended, “Wild Turkey American Honey is a Southern staple and your disdain for it just showcases how uncouth you damn Yankees are.”

“This damn Yankee has a refined palette. I won’t apologize for that.” They both laughed at his assertion. Silence settled between them and he debated internally for a moment before he leaned forward and gave Deja a soft kiss on the cheek, “See you later, Dea.”

A small, strained smile found its way to her lips as she breathed, “Bye Chris.”

He nodded towards her one more time before he walked away to get into his own car. 


	7. LCTWTO 7

A knock rang out throughout the living room and as Deja headed towards the door, she wondered, not for the first time that day, if this whole thing was a bad idea. She took a deep breath and swung open the door to reveal her soon-to-be ex-husband.

Chris grinned and held up the bags he carried in one hand, “Your awful whiskey, as promised, as well as wine and champagne for mimosas.”

Deja gestured to what he held in his other hand, “And those?”

He winked at her as he waved the bouquet under her nose, “How many more opportunities am I going to get to buy flowers?”

“You have a mother and sisters. I’m sure they’d be appreciative,” she replied as she leaned against the door frame.

Chris stuck his tongue out her briefly before he stated, “I’m almost certain the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you, oh kind and thoughtful husband’.”

“Yep,” Deja couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips, “That was exactly what my next sentence was going to be.”

“So…You gonna let me in or just keep me out on this doorstep for all the neighbors to see?” he questioned.

She shrugged, “I’m debating.”

“Guess I’ll just have to pee in the bushes then,” he quipped as he moved towards the bushes that were housed in their entryway.

“Gross as always,” she laughed as she moved and let him walk past her. He set the alcohol and flowers on the small entry table and moved past her to head towards the bathroom.

Deja shook her head as she closed the door and started to grab the bags to relocate them to the kitchen. She realized that the flowers had a card attached and she pulled it from the bouquet to read it.

_‘It wasn’t all bad, right? Happy Anniversary. -Chris’_

A soft smile worked its way onto her face as she moved into the kitchen and set the bags on their kitchen table. She opened the cabinet and grabbed a bag of popcorn. She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she stood in front of the microwave, waiting for the popcorn to be done.

A loud clap startled her and she turned to find her husband had joined her in the kitchen, “So, are you cracking open that whiskey yet?”

“Nope,” she answered, popping the p. She turned to lean on the counter, “That’s my reward for putting up with you on this fine and lovely day. You get mimosas, wine, and popcorn, sir.”

“Maybe we should have taken a trip to Vermont and made jam,” he joked as he hopped up to sit on their kitchen island.

She rolled her eyes at his joke and at the fact that he, like always, chose to ignore the four chairs that lined the island to sit on the countertop, “You jest but, by the end, you were just as invested as I was.”

“I mean…it’s Kerry Washington. What’s not to be invested in?” he teased, knowing how huge of a girl crush his wife had on the actress. He saw a brief flash of emotion before she faked a laugh and turned back around to look at the microwave. He slid off the countertop, “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That look. Just now,” Chris answered as he walked towards her.

She shrugged, “Nothing. I’m just trying to make sure the popcorn doesn’t burn.”

He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her tense up and began to slightly sway, “We knew today was going to be weird. That’s why I’m here. Talk to me.”

She relaxed a bit and leaned her head back against his shoulder with her eyes closed, “You always promised me that if you ever filmed with Kerry again, that I could come to set and spend time getting to know her. But, now…”

Chris waited a few moments after she trailed off to see if she was going to add anything else before he spoke, “You can still come to set. You can be her new best friend that she didn’t know she needed. I’m not dying or retiring from acting, Dea. I don’t hate you. I made you a promise and I’ll keep it.”

A heavy sigh fell from Deja’s lips as she opened the microwave, “I’m not drunk enough for this, Evans.” She gently shook off his arms and moved around him to grab a bowl for the popcorn, “Grab the OJ from the fridge and bring the champagne and wine to the living room. The first hour is the ID channel and then you get an hour of whatever you want to pick.”

Chris momentarily debated on whether or not he wanted to push the issue. Every single part of him wanted to, but he knew that it would only end with them arguing and that was the last thing he wanted. He hadn’t been prepared for the wave of emotions that he’d woken up to, with the knowledge that this was their final anniversary. He decided to let her avoid the conversation. There were a time and a place for all the things they would need to discuss, but today wasn’t the day and this wasn’t the time.

As he followed her into the living room, he asked, “Are we re-watching Who the (Bleep) Did I Marry because that seems fitting.”

She turned to throw a piece of popcorn at him which he attempted—and failed—to catch in his mouth, “Yes, we are.”

“Called it!” he exclaimed as he flopped down beside her on the couch, “You get that pulled up on the tv. I’m gonna see what I can do about putting this OJ and champagne together.”

“ALL I’m saying is thank you for being exactly who you said you were,” Chris stated as he pointed to the screen, “Instead of secretly being a serial killer or a professional con-woman.”

“Please,” Deja snorted, “You probably got a background check before you took me out.”

“Didn’t need to. Several Senators sang your praises after learning that I had been on a date with you.” He shook his head, “How they found that out, I’m still not sure.”

She shot him an incredulous look, “Chris, we met up for drinks at Bullfeathers. The amount of lobbyists and Hill staffers that go there is astronomical. _That’s_ how they knew.”

He scratched his beard, “Why didn’t you say something when I suggested it?”

“I thought you knew.” She leaned back against the couch cushions, “And I didn’t mind because I also thought you were going to be bored out of your mind after one date. I figured I might as well get some dating clout by having been on a date with _the_ Captain America. But I couldn’t spread that rumor myself. That’s just bragging.”

He laughed and took a sip of wine before asking, “Did it work?”

She took a sip of her wine before she answered with a grin, “I had no less than 6 guys ask me out within three days of that date.”

“Did you take any of them up on the offer?” he inquired.

“Absolutely not.” She bit her lip before continuing, “I’m a singular girl, even in dating. You asked me out for the next time you would be in DC so they had to wait.”

“My return to DC was a month later,” he observed. “We weren’t exclusive at that point. You could have gone and been in the clear.”

“I wanted to see where this was going.” She winked at him, “Safe to say I made the right decision.”

He stared at the glass in his hand, “Did you?”

“You said it yourself on the flowers. It wasn’t all bad.” She nudged his thigh with her foot to get him to look up at her, “I’d even say some parts were downright Disney magical.”

He rose an eyebrow, “Oh, Disney magical, huh?”

She tossed her braids over her shoulder, “I mean, that’s not really a standard for me, but you and your family are weird about that sooooo…”

He tapped her foot with his finger, “Just for that, my next hour is going to be a Disney movie.”

She rolled her eyes, “Those are more than an hour-long, Christopher.”

“We’ll watch an hour and then finish it on my next hour,” he shrugged.

Laughter bubbled out of her, “You are incredibly ridiculous, Christopher Robert.”

“You enjoy every second of it, Deja Renee,” he shot back.

She nodded towards the collection of Disney movies that resided underneath their entertainment system, “Pick your movie, Evans.”

He got up and sat on the floor in front of the television, debating on which movie he wanted them to watch. Deja picked up her phone and began scrolling through Twitter when a few of her mentions caught her eye.

“Oh, goodness,” she scoffed.

“I didn’t realize you had such a hatred for the Little Mermaid,” Chris jested as he put the movie into the DVD player.

“You know perfectly well that I love the Little Mermaid. Ursula is peak Disney villain.” She shook her phone at him, “Buzzfeed just posted an article about us and my mentions are off the charts. Yours are always off the charts so you probably won’t even notice when you get on Twitter.”

“Is it bad?” he asked as he stood to rejoin her on the couch.

“Let’s find out,” she answered as he flopped down next to her, “The title is: Ten Things We’re Going to Miss About Chrea.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “That really is the most awful shipping name.”

Literally, the only reason fans chose it is so they could make puns about being crazy for Chrea.” She leaned her head onto his shoulder, “I ain’t mad about it. I just wouldn’t put it on a shirt.”

“You know there’s probably an Etsy shop somewhere that’s selling those, right?” he teased as he poked her thigh.

“Boy, they probably selling coffee mugs too,” she laughed before she questioned, “You think they’ll do _RIP Chrea_ mugs and shirts for the day the divorce is finalized?”

“If they do, are you gonna buy one?” he queried as he maneuvered his arm around her shoulder and she snuggled into his side.

“I mean…maybe for the novelty,” she giggled.

He grinned down at her, “And now I know you’re officially wine drunk, little Miss Giggles.”

“Little Miss Giggles?” She rolled her eyes, “I wish all your fans could spend one on one time with you and see you for the old awkward man you truly are.”

He poked her again, “You gonna read the article or do I need to pull it up on my own?“

“Ahem,” she dramatically cleared her throat before she donned an exaggerated narrator voice, “Months ago, the entire world was shook when it was discovered that Chris Evans had filed for divorce from Deja Moore (Evans).” She pointed at her screen, “Look at them putting Evans in parenthesis. The shade of it all, Chris.”

He reached forward and picked up his wine glass as he commented, “There’s no way I’m getting this article read to me without your commentary, is there?”

She waited for him to lean back into the couch and readjusted her position under his arm, “Not a chance so buckle up buttercup”

“Continue,” he beckoned as he took a sip.

“I’m not quite sure the entire world was shook, though.” She looked up at him, “Maybe some slight tremors but surely not shook shook.”

He shot her a confused look, “We’ve been together over three years and I still don’t understand what you’re trying to emphasize when you say the words twice in a row.”

“Somethings just can’t be explained,” she replied with a cheeky grin, “Back to this article. _Ahem._ For years, we have been crazy over Chrea.”

He saw the look she made and interjected before she could speak, “Gloss, baby, gloss. Keep going.”

She shot him a pointed look before she continued, “Now, for those of you who aren’t sensitive to this mourning period that all us Chrea fans are going through.”

Chris couldn’t contain his laughter, “Those tombstone shirts and mugs are looking more and more likely by the second.”

“That’s the spirit!” Deja exclaimed with a grin before she continued, “TODAY—in all caps, of course, because they are _distraught_ —is potentially their very last anniversary. And while we’re sure they’re both on their own, living their best (soon to be) single lives, we’ve come up with a list of Chrea things that we’re going to miss going crazy over.”

“Chrea and crazy twice? That just feels like lazy writing,” he commented.

She nodded, “Right? I expect Buzzfeed to hit us with new cringe in every sentence! Every. Sentence.”

“Period.”

She poked him in his side, “Don’t let those memes go to your head, Christopher.”

“They were funny and you know it,” he replied, poking her back.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that there were many of them shared in my group chat with Raven and Jaz,” she giggled.

He ran his hand over his beard, “Let me guess how many things are on the list.” He thought about it for a moment before he guessed, “Five?”

“Ten!”

He shook his head, “There’s no way that there’s ten. We don’t do enough to merit ten.”

She pointed to her phone, “Apparently, these people think so.”

He sat up a little straighter, “I am genuinely curious about what has made this list.”

“Well, let’s find out, shall we.” She looks back down at her phone, “Oooh, they did it countdown style so we’re starting with number ten. So, number ten, _‘The photos Chris takes when Deja isn’t looking and how he uses all 280 characters to gush over her on twitter.’_ If you guess what picture they posted with this one, I’ll crack open the whiskey.”

“Oh, that’s hard!” Chris ran a hand over his thigh, “I’ve posted so many.”

“Yeah, because you’re a creeper,” Deja gibed.

“More like I am a documenter of beautiful things. Not my fault you’re one of them,” he defended with a shrug.

She stuck her tongue out at him “You’re stalling Evans. Guess.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “I’m gonna go with the picture I took of you at the final premiere of Endgame when we at the afterparty. You looked stunning.”

“I did. And that was a good picture, buuuuut,” she did a small victory dance, “no dice.”

“Really? That was one of my best captions!” Chris argued, “There was falling in love with you feels and ending my time as Captain America feels. It was an emotional time! Some of my best work!”

“It was,” she conceded. “But not as emotional as the photo you snapped of me on our wedding day when we took a detour and got Brigham’s on our way to our reception. You took a picture of me while I took the first bite and did a happy dance.”

He crinkled his nose, “That’s right! I posted it to twitter a few days later.”

She waggled her eyebrows at him, “And gushed about your favorite girl on your favorite day eating your favorite ice cream.”

They both smiled at the memory, a comfortable silence lingered between them for a few moments before Chris spoke, “Not a bad pick. What’s at nine?”

“ _The silly filters they play around with on Deja’s Instagram stories when they’re wine drunk._ But why does this make it sound like we’re wine drunk a lot? Surely, we don’t do that enough to justify it being a reason to miss us,” she reasoned.

“Do I even need to point out the irony of our current states at,” he gave a glance to the clock on the all as he gestured to the empty champagne bottle and the opened bottle of wine, “9:30 in the morning and your need to disagree with their choice?”

“We at least started with mimosas!” she defended.

He snickered, “I don’t think that’s as good of a point as you think it is.”

“Today is an emotional day! We’ve earned this, Chris,” she huffed.

His body still shook with laughter, “Maybe we should skip to number eight.”

“ _Literally any Instagram story Deja posts when they’re wine_ _drunk_.” She sent Chris a dirty look, “We don’t do this _that_ often!”

He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze with the arm that was wrapped around her, “I agree that we don’t do it enough to have it count as two separate reasons, but it’s Buzzfeed.”

“I don’t think that’s as good of a point as you think it is,” she mimicked his words and tone back to him.

He tried not to laugh as he replied, “Touché, wifey, touché.”

She scoffed, “I’m moving on to seven and, _so help me_ , if it involves wine, we’re not reading the rest of this list.” She waited for Chris to nod in agreement and read off the next reason, “ _Their competitive work out videos._ ”

“I think they mean the videos where I obviously take it easy on you.”

She nodded, “I’d argue that point, but you’re not wrong. Moving on to six.”

Chris waits for her to read it but looks down at her when she immediately bursts into a fit of giggles, “Oh no, what is it?”

Deja takes a moment to get her laughter in check as she wiped tears from her eyes, “Number seven is _Deja’s #YoureWelcomeFangirls tag_ and then in parentheses, they put, “ _We didn’t deserve how generous she was with shirtless Chris’_.”

“Oh, that’s funny. You know what you should do?” He paused and thought through his next statement and then changed his mind, “Actually, skip to number six.”

Deja looked up at him and gingerly asked, “Were you gonna say post a picture of our divorce decree after it’s finalized and tag it #YoureWelcomeFangirls because I was thinking it but didn’t want to say it.”

Chris threw his head back and cackled loudly, “That’s exactly what I was about to say but didn’t know if it’d land okay.“ They both chuckled as Deja shifted as she sat up, leaned back towards the arm of the couch and swung her legs over his lap. As she settled, he said, "I told you that you were wine drunk earlier, but I think I might be there too.”

“I mean, you’ve helped me go through half the bottle in addition to the three mimosas you slammed down when you first got here,” she observed.

“That is a very fair assessment,” he acknowledged as he laid his hands on her thigh.

She grabbed one of his hands and gently rubbed her thumb across it, “Before we get through the rest of this list, I want to thank you for being here today. It doesn’t make sense and it’s weird as hell, but I don’t think I could have done it alone and I don’t know who I would have wanted here. Making that joke to anyone else would have just made them super uncomfortable. But…you get it. We’re only a few hours in but today is already far better than I thought it was going to be.”

He turned his hand over so he could intertwine it with his, “Thank you for letting me come over. I think I would have been okay since I would have had Ma and the rest of the family, but I would have spent it worried about how you were feeling. I still care about that, ya know? Whether or not you’re okay. And not knowing would have weighed on me all day.”

“I know you do.” Dea felt the atmosphere in the room begin to shift and quickly backtracked to lighten the mood, “ _Ahem_ , moving on to number six. _Their birthday posts to one another.”_ Deja rolled her eyes, “This feels unfair that they’re lumping my posts to you with your posts to me.”

He rose an eyebrow at her, “How so? I am at a downright romantic on your day of birth.”

“On Twitter, sir. 280 characters. I, however, post your birthday shout out on Instagram where I freely wax poetic about how glad I am you were born.” She lifted her chin, “I used the phrase, ‘how grateful am I that I get to warm myself each day in the radiance of your shine’ last year. There are levels, Christopher.”

He held his hands up in surrender, “Wow…you feel really passionate about that, huh?”

“Look, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate your posts,” she reached up to scratch his beard before she returned to her original spot. “They’re always super sweet and make me tear up. I’m just saying, objectively, I am given more space to work with and I utilize it. I want them to put some respect on my birthday game. They devoted two whole spots to us drinking wine together. They could have combined that and made our birthday posts two separate ones!”

Chris shot her an amused look, “I’m confiscating your phone after this so you don’t email the BuzzFeed staff asking for revisions to this article.”

“You know…” she tapped her chin, “that’s not a bad id-“

“Absolutely not, Deja Renee,” he interjected, voice stern.

She batted her eyelashes at him, “Ooh, you know how I feel when you drop those octaves.”

He crossed his arms, “You are not going to flirt your way into me being okay with you emailing BuzzFeed about this.”

“Fine,” she shrugged, “but you and I both know this article could be better.”

“We’re only at number six. The last four could be the best,” he suggested.

“You have way too much faith in these people.” She rotated her shoulders, “Okay, I’m going to rapid-fire the top four.”

He nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

“They are as follows: _Deja’s ‘Dodger misses dad’ posts; how Chris can barely take his eyes off her while he tries to give red carpet interviews; Chris chronicling #WashDayShenanigans_ , and _th-_ “

“Wait,” Chris interrupted her. “Washday shenanigans made the list?”

She affirmed, “Yep. Number two.”

A grin slowly appeared on his face, “Might sound weird, but I am oddly proud of that.”

She snorted, “You would be.”

He gave her a mock glare, “Why do you sound as salty about that as you do the wine and birthdays?”

She grunted before she answered, “Because I spend the day tackling my head and you somehow become the hero of the story simply because you learned how to detangle, take down some braids, and crochet some hair. The audacity, truly.”

He counted on his fingers as he listed off, “I also fed you so you didn’t have to stop braiding your hair, went and purchased more hair because you underestimated how many bags you needed, gr-“

“I have a big head, Chris!” Deja defended.

“You said it, not me,” he teased as he pointed at her before he continued his list, “I also greased your scalp and helped you dip the ends. You were clearly the hero because your hair is always on point, but don’t act like I wasn’t a good Robin, Batman.”

She grumbled, “I’m should text Feige and tell him that you use DC references.”

He waved her off, “Well, I wasn’t about to disrespect Mackie by calling Falcon my sidekick.”

“Thaaaaat’s actually a fair point. I’ll keep my text message to myself,” she admitted before she muttered under her breath, “Still want to email Buzzfeed though.”

Chris simply shook his head at her utterance as he asked, “What’s number one?”

A soft smile appeared on Deja’s face, “ _Their anniversary posts to one another…too bad we didn’t savor the last one since it was the last one_.” She set her phone in her lap and looked up at Chris, “Maybe I’m too wine drunk but…why don’t we give them something to talk about one last time.”

He cocked his head to the side, “You sure you want to have your notifications going crazy for the next few days?”

She stretched as she answered, “Why not? One time for the one time, am I right?”

He shook his head, “Still don’t understand that one either.”

She laughed as she instructed, “Put your wine glass next to mine in front of the bottle and the popcorn.”

After Chris followed her instructions, she motioned for him to scoot over. She pulled up Instagram and captured a picture that showcased the pair of glasses, the wine bottle, the bowl of popcorn and the DVD title menu that was displayed on the tv in the background. Satisfied, she leaned back on the couch and typed up a quick caption. After it posted, she handed her phone to Chris so he could see it.

_“Every new beginning is some beginnings end. Thankful that my best friend always has my back through hard times…even if the hard times are between us. I couldn’t imagine a better (even if bittersweet) way to spend this day then getting wine drunk and bouncing back and forth between the ID Channel and Disney movies: AKA our perfect lazy day. Happy (last) Anniversary, honey! #UnderTheSeaStillSlaps #ButNextUpIsSnapped”_

* * *

"I feel the need to tell you thank you for not murdering me since we don’t have a prenup,” Deja stated as she turned off the television.

“You’re very welcome, though, I wish you’d take more of my money,” he replied as he stretched.

Deja smacked his thigh, “Today has been a good day. Don’t ruin it in the home stretch.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, “I’ll fight that battle another day.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said as she crossed her arms, “You probably shouldn’t drive home.”

“I’ll call Scott and have him come collect me,” he stated as he pulled out his phone. He started to dial his brother’s number but stopped short. He turned to look at his wife, “Hey, Dea.”

His tone immediately alerted Deja that whatever he was about to say was serious, “Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about how everything went down when you were writing your book since we talked about it in therapy,” he began.

She sighed and interjected, “Chris, we’re drunk. You do-”

"No. Just let me just say this, okay?” He reached out and grabbed her hand, “I’ve been debating saying something all day, but I feel like I need to.” He took a deep breath, “I’m still bothered that you were going through all this inner turmoil and didn’t key me in. But I can recognize that it would have been easier for you to open up if I would have actively taken a larger interest in what you were doing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for making you feel like you didn’t have a choice. I guess I just figured going through a publishing house wasn’t that big of a deal because we’ve got more than enough money for you to self-publish and promote it. I didn’t realize how much the validation of being chosen versus people thinking it happened because you’re my wife meant to you and just assumed you were only doing it to push back since we’d been arguing so much.” He gently tugged on his beard as he gathered his thoughts and continued, “I _do_ care about your dreams and seeing you reach them even if I’ve done a shitty job of prioritizing them. I see you, Deja. You. I always have. Hell, even BuzzFeed acknowledged that I can’t keep my eyes off of you even when I’m on a red carpet.” He squeezed her hand, “I’ve always been blown away by all that you are. It’s why I had no doubts about moving so fast into marriage. I know the media and fans might make it seem like the most important thing about you is that you’re married to me, but I need you to know that I’ve never thought that. I’m the one that punched above my weight here. It’s because I saw you that I became a better me.”

“Damn,” she breathed. “You really are Steve fucking Rogers.”

“Language,” he quipped.

She squeezed his hand, “Thank you. I don’t think I realized until just now how much that would mean to me.” She moved her braids over her shoulder, “I owe you an apology too.”

He shook his head, “I didn’t say it because I expected one from you, Dea.”

“I know. Which is exactly why I want to give it.” She inhaled deeply and slowly released her breath before she looked him in the eye, “You take up space, yeah? Whole rooms full of it. And that’s not a bad thing, Chris. People just…gravitate to you. Like moths to a flame. You don’t control it and you don’t force it. Like water is wet and the sky is blue, it just…is. You’re right that I had a hand in building the dynamics of our relationship. I followed you, willingly and happily, over and over and over again. I don’t know when that changed, but I realized that I had lost myself in being your wife. Despite what I shared in our last session, I don’t hate being your wife.” She pointed to the picture of their wedding day above their couch, “Look at her. Happiest she’s ever been. One of the best days of my life.”

“Even now?” he gingerly questioned.

“Especially now.” She wiped a few tears from her eyes, “I should have told you how I was feeling, but I was scared to make waves. To ask for more and have you tell me no because where do you go from there?”

“Did you really think I would?” he asked.

“It was a possibility. One I didn’t know if I could live with,” she answered, honestly.

He nodded, “And that’s why you ran to DC?”

“Yeah.” She looked down at where their hands were joined, “I needed time. I needed space. And I couldn’t talk to you before I left because you would have asked me to stay and I would have. I couldn’t talk to you while I was there because you would have asked me to come home and I would have. At least the first two months.” She chewed on her lip as she found the courage to meet his eyes and speak, “Since we’re being soul-crushingly honest here lately, then I have to admit that after those first two months, I was waiting to see if you were going to show up. If I mattered enough to you for you to show up to fight for me. I wanted to know that I meant that much to you.” He started to speak, but she continued, “I know, it’s childish. Jaz and Raven told me that repeatedly and I should have listened. We probably wouldn’t be where we are now if I had. I’m sorry that I didn’t just tell you those things. I’m sorry I didn’t just ask you to come to DC and I’m sorry I didn’t just tell you what I needed from you.”

Chris untangled his hands from hers and tried to process what she had just told him. He cleared his throat before softly asking, “Soul-crushingly honest is what we’re going for?”

“I think we’ve drunk enough that we can blame it on that so, yeah, soul-crushingly honest,” she sniffled.

He glanced down at the ground as he admitted, “I came to DC.” 

Deja blinked in surprise, not expecting that to be his response, “Wait…what?”

He stood and paced about the living room, “Right before I filed for divorce. You weren’t answering but I know you, Jaz, and Raven have a standing brunch date at Le Diplomate on Sundays when you’re there. Figured I could pop up and get you to talk to me.”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but there was no way I would have missed you. Frenzy follows you,” she spoke slowly, trying to understand what he was telling her. 

“I hired a car. We were parked out front on the street. I could see you three through the window. You looked happy. Relaxed. In a way that I hadn’t seen you in a very long time. I called you. I knew you wouldn’t answer but I planned to text you after you ignored the call to tell you I was outside and then come in,” he explained.

“Why didn’t you?” she cautiously broached.

Chris stopped pacing and ran his hands over his sweatpants. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he looked down at Deja, eyes glassy with unshed tears as he ground out, “Your whole demeanor changed when you saw my name on your screen. I meant what I said, Dea. I see you. And as I watched through the window, I saw the look on your face. It’s the exact same look you have every time one of your parents call. After you sent me to voicemail, I watched Jaz and Raven try to console you. That’s when I knew we were done. Because I could never be happy knowing that I was making you feel the way your family does.” He wiped his hand across his face, “So, I went back to my hotel and changed my flight to that evening. I came back here and went on a full week bender. Then, I sobered up, called our lawyer, and had the papers filed.” 

A wave of shock washed over Deja as she felt her chest constrict. She struggled to fight back tears, eventually losing the battle in a matter of minutes. Chris watched her face change as different emotions flashed across her face, unsure if he needed to reach out to comfort her or give her space.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stammered, “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“I don’t expect you to and, honestly, I never expected to tell you.” A weary sigh escaped his lips, “But I can’t have this end with you thinking that I wasn’t willing to fight for you. That you and this meant so little to me that I just threw in the towel. I showed up, Dea. Ready to have guns blazing and bring you back home, but…” He choked back tears as he asked, “Do you remember what you said to me the very first time you told me you loved me?”

“I remember, but I said a lot of things. I need you to be more specific,” she answered, though she was almost certain she knew what he was referring to.

“You told me that because of the way your parents treated each other and you and your siblings that you always thought that love had to be hard. That it had to hurt. And that you, somehow, always found yourself in that cycle even though you hated it.” He looked up at the ceiling as his voice cracked, “You thank me for loving you so softly. For showing you that it didn’t have to hurt, that it didn’t have to be a struggle. That you didn’t have to beg or demand that I show up for you.”

Deja stood up and reached for him, “Chris, b-“

He took a step back from her, “I saw your face, Deja. Despite my best effort and intentions, I stopped being a safe place for you. I stopped being a soft landing. And I couldn’t be selfish enough to fight to trap you into the type of marriage you’ve spent your whole life running from.”

Deja’s heart ached and she struggled to swallow past the lump in her throat. She reached for him again, and this time, he let her. She caressed his face before pulling him to her so their foreheads rested against one another, “You are not my father. I have doubted a lot about this marriage and both of our roles in it, but I have never once questioned if you and he are cut from the same cloth. You could never be that man.” She gently tugged on his hair so he would pull back his head and look her in the eyes, “Learning how to navigate fully being my own person and fully being your wife has been hard. _That_ has been a struggle. _That_ has been hurt. But how easy it is to fall in love with you, how deeply I still do has been why I wanted to try to figure it out. I am so sorry that I ever, for even a moment, led you to believe that we had ever become like my parents. We haven’t. Neither one of us has it in us to be that cruel and unkind to one another." 

He rested his forehead against hers again as he enveloped her in his arms. Deja could feel the tension and turmoil melt away and slowly, morph into a sense of awareness. She could feel the warmth of his breath fan across her face and she felt utterly overwhelmed.

Deja wasn’t sure who initiated it, but she suddenly found her lips intertwined with his. A soft sigh escaped her lips as her heart raced and butterflies swarmed throughout her. His hands run soft circles up and down her back as his lips gently brushed along hers.

Abruptly, Chris pulled back and released her, “I’m sorry, Deja. I shouldn’t ha-“

“I don’t want a divorce,” she interjected.

Confusion marred his face, "What?”

She took a deep breath, “I don’t want a divorce. I think I’ve been clear about that from the very beginning. But I thought that you wanted to get away from me, so I didn’t fight too hard beyond a few smart ass remarks here and there.“ She fidgeted with her hair, "But if that’s not the case and you thought you were doing it to free me from a life of misery then I need to make it clear that I don’t want a divorce. I want to fight for us. For this.”

“You’re drunk,” he argued, refusing to get his hopes up.

“I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m sober and tell you the same thing,” she assured him. “I love you. There has never been a moment where I’ve stopped loving you even if I didn’t know how to live with you. Therapy is giving us both the tools to fix that. Don’t we owe it to them,” she pointed to their wedding day picture, “to give it a real shot. To figure out if we can have the life, we promised each other we’d have three years ago today.”

“I should call Scott. I’ll wait outside for him to get here,” Chris replied, avoiding her questions, “We should talk about this later. When we both have had time to think about what we’ve both learned today.”

She could tell that he was in the process of shutting down and shutting her out. Deja elected not to pressure him to continue the discussion, “Okay. Let’s talk about it in our next session. We pay Dr. Lundquist good money to help us navigate, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, averting her gaze.

“You don’t have to wait for Scott outside.” She waved over their glasses and empty dishes, “I’m gonna clean all this up in the morning. I’m headed to bed so…just lock the door on your way out, okay?” He nodded and she reached up and softly kissed his cheek, “Goodnight, Chris.”

He steeled himself against the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over as he watched her begin to retreat up the stairs. She was halfway up the staircase before he softly called after her, “Goodnight, Deja.”

She paused briefly before continuing her journey up the stairs and out of his sight.


	8. LCTWTO 8

Deja checked the clock as she waited in the lobby of Dr. Lundquist’s office. Her husband was usually ten or so minutes early everywhere and yet, five minutes out from their appointment, he hadn’t walked through the door yet. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone, ready to attempt a call she knew he wouldn’t answer. Just as she hit his name in her contacts, he walked through the door.

His phone rang before she could hang up and he instantly recognized the ringtone she had picked out for herself a long time ago. As Deja ended the call, he sat down next to her and asked, “Did you think I wasn’t coming?”

She rolled her eyes as she put her phone back into her purse, “You haven’t returned any of my phone calls or text messages so…” she shrugged as she looked up at him, “I was beginning to think it was a possibility.”

“I’m sorry.” Chris ran a hand over his face, “I just w-”

“I get it,” she gently cut him off as she leaned back in her chair. “There’s a very big elephant in the room with us right now and you don’t do well with talking around an issue. If we talked, we would have had to talk about _it_ and you weren’t ready for that.”

Surprise sprang across his face, “That’s…well…that’s not the response I was expecting.”

“What can I say?” She gave a small grin, “I’ve got a really good therapist.”

Before Chris could respond, Dr. Lundquist beckoned both of them from across the room, “Chris, Deja, come on back.”

The couple followed her to her office. Deja entered first and opted to sit on the couch, Chris didn’t hesitate to follow her lead even though he chose to sit at the opposite end. Their therapist made a mental note of the difference even though she elected not to comment on it.

Dr. L took a sit in one of the chairs and waited for the couple to be fully settled in before she inquired, “How has your week been?”

“Well, we celebrated our anniversary,” Chris supplied.

“That’s a pretty big deal,” she acknowledged, “How do you think each of you coped with that amid everything going on?”

The pair looked at one another briefly before Deja spoke up, “We spent it together which, pre-therapy, I don’t think is something we would have done.” She sat up a little bit straighter before she continued, “Full transparency, the day we spent together made me realize that I don’t want a divorce.” Deja turned towards Chris, “I know you wanted to think it was the alcohol, but it wasn’t. One of my main issues is that you didn’t fight for me. For this. I felt like you gave up on us. That may not be a fair assessment, I can fully acknowledge that based on my actions, but it is how I felt. And its why I was angry but resigned to letting you go.” She shook her head and cleared her throat, hoping that she wouldn’t tear up, “But you came to DC, Chris. You showed up. And I think that’s worth fighting for.”

Dr. Lundquist pushed her glasses up on her face and gently stated, “That’s a big change from where you were when you guys first started seeing me. What about Chris showing up in DC makes such a difference to you?”

She bit her lip as she considered the question. After a few minutes, she spoke, “Chris always shows up. Over the years of our relationship, I’ve seen him show up for friends, colleagues, family, and, in some cases, fans. He just always finds a way to be supportive and present even if he can’t fix what’s going on. The man is basically Captain America in real life. He cares about policies and how it affects every single person in our country.” She gave a rueful smile, “And he is a man of second chances. No shade, but Minka and Jenny. Need I say more? So, the idea that I, somehow, was the exception. That I wasn’t worth showing up for. That, more than anything else, made me feel like our relationship was truly beyond repair.”

“Chris, how are you feeling about this?” she asked after she made a few notes on her notepad.

“Hopeful.” He sighed as he leaned forward, “And if I’m being honest, I hate it. Losing her. Accepting that this was truly over has been hard, but I’ve been coping. Maybe not in the healthiest ways, but I’ve been dealing. So the idea that it might not be over? That maybe we could make it? Of course, I want that. But I barely survived us ending the first time. I honestly don’t know if I could handle thinking we might be okay and then it ending anyway.”

Before their therapist could respond, Deja interjected, “Can you live with the what-ifs? Can you live with the idea that maybe we _could_ have made it work and just didn’t try? If we gotta go out, shouldn’t we go out swinging?”

“So what? We just call this whole divorce thing off,” he questioned as he waved a hand in between them. “Buy ourselves a couple of months and then realize that we shouldn’t have stopped the divorce proceedings? And then what? We’re back in this office, rehashing all the things that didn’t work in the first place. That’s what you want?”

“Of course not,” Deja ran a hand through her braids, “I want us back together and happy and healthy and whole. We aren’t there yet, but we could be. Do you want to wake up a year or two from now and realize that we should have given it just one more try?”

“And what if it doesn’t work Dea,” he argued. “What then? Can you handle another media blitz when one of us refiles for divorce? Because as much as I love my job, I realize that it doesn’t give me the room to handle things privately. They weren’t kind when they found out we were divorcing, but they’ve mostly settled down. We end up going for a divorce a second time? They’ll be relentless. Do you really want to go through that again?”

“If it means possible being able to stay your wife? Absolutely,” she answered without hesitation.

Knowing how she had always struggled with the media aspect of his job, Chris was taken aback by her answer.

Dr. L took this momentary silence as her opportunity to speak, “So this is a lot to process and take in. May I make an observation and a suggestion?” Both nodded in affirmation and she continued, “You both are still in love with one another, but aren’t sure how to best show one another that they are loved, would that be a fair assessment?”

Both nodded and she asked, “In a perfect world, you both would work through those issues and move forward in a happy marriage? Is that a fair assessment?

When both nodded, she addressed Chris, “Chris, your hesitation seems to come from the unfortunate, public fallout that would occur if you guys weren’t able to do this and how that would impact both of you. Is that a fair assessment?”

"Yeah, that’s pretty spot-on,” he confirmed.

She turned towards Deja, “And you, Deja, are willing to risk that in hopes of a successful reconciliation? Is that a fair assessment?”

Deja nodded, “Yes. Absolutely.”

“So, compromise is almost always the name of the game. Deja, you want to keep fighting. Chris, you don’t want to have to restart this whole process.” She pushed her glasses up, “What neither of you has considered is that you don’t have to sacrifice one to do the other. We’ve still got four months’ worth of sessions. Instead of suffering through it to end the marriage, how about we really work on it. How about you two try being involved in each other’s lives again on a day to day basis and, when the four months are up, you two can decide if you want to go through with the divorce.”

Both took a moment to mull over her proposal.

Chris broke the silence first, “I think I could do that. Yeah, I could handle that.”

“Deja?” Dr. Lundquist prompted.

A soft sigh escaped the author’s lips, “I’ll be honest. It’s not what I was hoping would be the outcome of today’s session, but I know a huge part of how we got here is because I prioritized how I was feeling over putting in the work to right the wrongs of our marriage.” She ran her hands over her pants, “I don’t like that there’s a timeline. It feels like an insane amount of pressure to get it right, but if that’s what it takes to get back on the right track then I’m all in.”

“I’m proud of you for voicing that, Deja, instead of just agreeing and letting it fester. That’s progress,” the therapist noted. “So, before, the goal was to get through these sessions relatively unscathed so you could complete the requirements of the court for a divorce. Obviously, those goals have now changed. What I want both of you to be thinking about and considering is what is the new goal? If we’re dismantling the old habits and systems you two had in place before, what are you hoping to replace it with? What does a healthy, fulfilling marriage look like for the both of you? We’ll cover that in our next session.” She crossed her legs, “Here’s a question you guys can answer today, though. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume that because things have been so contemptuous between you two, you guys haven’t spent much time together outside of these four walls.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” Chris confirmed before he explained, “I…uh…I moved out of the house.”

Dr. Lundquist nodded, “So what does it look like for you two to reincorporate each other into these new lives that you’ve carved out apart from one another?”

“Well, I don’t think I should move back into the house just yet. I think we both still need space to process everything we’re dealing with.” Chris explained, “But, I think we could stop avoiding each other like the plague. Go on some dates. I cleared my work schedule so I’d be able to be here for our sessions. I know you’ve got some appearances and talks booked. I could go with you to some of those.”

Deja’s head snapped up, “You want to go with me? You want to wait in the wings while I talk on a stage?” She took a deep breath, “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to have you there. You just…you’ve never shown an interest in going with me.”

“It’s not that I’ve never wanted to go. I just knew that if I went, it had the potential to take the focus off of you.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek a moment before he added, “I didn’t want to be a distraction from your hard work.”

Dr. Lundquist noticed that Deja had a few tears collecting in her eyes, “Is that the first time he’s ever shared that with you, Deja?”

She sniffled before answering, “Yeah. I thought he never asked to go because he didn’t care.”

“Dea. That has never been the case.” He reached out to her and grabbed her hand, “Anytime your conferences are streamed, I tune in. I mean, I paid good money to watch you at Essence Fest. You were phenomenal, by the way.”

“How does hearing that make you feel, Deja,” the therapist prodded.

“Good, but also not good?” She shook her head and gently disentangled her hand from Chris’, “I know the world is almost always going to see him as the most important part of our relationship, but most of my struggles and insecurities in this marriage have been about feeling like he also thought that. Knowing that he wanted to be there and was sacrificing that so that he wouldn’t steal the limelight and knowing he found ways to watch even if he couldn’t be present are all things that would have helped me feel seen and heard and valued.” She fiddled with one of her braids, “So, it’s good to know that he does see me and hear me and value me, but a part of me is a little peeved that he didn’t clue me into all of that.” Chris started to speak but she held up a hand to stave him off, “And I know, okay? I know that is wholly hypocritical considering how terrible I have been at communicating with you about my needs. It’s not a feeling I plan on dwelling on and holding on to, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was feeling it.”

She nodded before she asked, “Chris? Any response to that?”

He scratched his beard as he answered, “I understand how she feels. It’s kind of how I felt after the last session. She can’t expect me to read her mind about how best to show up for her, but I can’t expect her to just automatically know the reasons for decisions I’ve made and actions I’ve taken towards being supportive when I’ve never discussed them with her. “

“Well, look at that. Progress.” Both of them smiled at each other as the therapist continued, “Dates and travel. Those sound like solid plans. How do you plan on dealing with tabloids? You two haven’t been pictured together in a very long time. It’s going to be a story.”

Chris nudged Deja and chuckled, “I’ve never been above some NDA’s and renting out whole restaurants. Back door entrances. There’s a reason we were able to hide our relationship so well at the beginning.”

“He’s not kidding about the NDA’s, in case you were wondering,” she confirmed with a laugh. “We should be fine for dates. If nothing else, we can always order food and stay at the house.” She turned to Chris, “But if you’re traveling with me to speaking engagements, we’re going to end up in the tabloids. Honestly, I’m okay with that. If it gets too invasive, we’ll release a statement asking that people respect our privacy at this time. We’re not withdrawing the divorce papers, so they’ll draw whatever conclusion they’re going to draw. They always have.”

“I feel like I should apologize for that,” he stated.

“Don’t,” she chided as she nudged him on the leg. “You don’t control that, and I have seen the way you sic your lawyers on anyone who gets out of pocket. I’m sure there’s a list of things I’d like you to apologize for one day, but tabloid coverage won’t ever be on it.”

He nodded and returned his gaze to Dr. L, “So, I guess that’s our plan.”

“It sounds like a pretty solid plan to me.” She leaned in towards both of them, “One thing to remember is that we do a lot of hard work in this space. And, while you guys do need to get to a point where you can have those conversations without me, know that right now, it’s okay to acknowledge that this is the best place to tackle the rough parts of your marriage. You can use these dates and trips as a way to remind yourselves of the things you do like about one another. Marriage isn’t about going from one disagreement to another.” She leaned back as she explained, “It’s about picking out the perfect dress for date night and laughing with each other so hard that it makes your stomach hurt and putting your really cold feet on his warm legs and him acting like he can’t stand it but you still see that stupid grin he as on his face while he exaggerates his response. You both have gotten so used to marriage being a battlefield. Being cautious around each other because you weren’t sure when you were going to step on a landmine and blow the whole thing up into another argument. It’s okay to not tackle an issue every time you’re together. It’s okay to remind yourselves of why you enjoy being around one another. The small, mundane moments are what fuel people to fight for one another even in disagreement. Your tanks have been empty for quite some time. Take these dates and trips and refill your tanks so that when you walk in here, you’re ready to fight _for_ each other instead of _against_ each other.”

Both of them nodded, taking in the advice that she had just gifted them. She glanced at the clock on her desk and stated, “Our time is up. Like I said, think about what the new goal is going to be so we can talk through it next session and establish what steps we’re going to take to get there. “

Chris stood first before extending his hand toward Deja to help her up. He allowed her to lead the way as they exited the office.

* * *

A small smile found its way to Deja’s face as she realized that Chris had parked next to her. As they walked towards their cars, Chris cautiously asked, “So, you free tomorrow night?”

“I am,” she confirmed with a giggle as she unlocked her door. She hopped up on the driver’s seat before she continued, “Why do you ask?”

Chris put his hands in his pocket as he stood before her, slightly rocking back and forth, “Well, I was wondering if I could take you out on a date?”

Deja couldn’t help but grin as she noticed a blush working its way across her husband’s face, “I would love that…but instead of going out, could we possibly order food and stay in?” She poked his chest, “We haven’t been on a date in a very long time and, well, we can both be very awkward human beings. Let’s get that out of the way before we go traipsing around Boston, yeah?”

He laughed, “That’s a very fair point. Do you want me to grab food or have mom make your favorite meal?”

She scoffed, “Oh, you _know_ there is never going to be a time where I turn down a home cooked meal from Mom so…do that.”

“What time do you want me to come over,” he questioned as he lightly rapped his knuckles on the roof of the vehicle.

“Seven sounds good,” she answered before asking, “Are we dressing up or lounging?”

“Oh, definitely dressing up.” Chris crossed his arms, “Just because it’s an in-house date, doesn’t mean it isn’t a date.”

“Oooookay then,” she drew out before turning around and grabbing her seatbelt, “I’ll see you at seven.”

Chris leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, “See you at seven.”

He couldn’t help but notice the feeling of joy that spread across his body as he closed the door on her giggles.


	9. LCTWTO 9

Deja turned her camera around so Raven could see her figure in the full-length mirror mounted on the inside door of her closet before asked, “Okay. How do I look?”

Raven gave her a saccharine smile as she answered, “Like you’re going to act right and actually have a good night with your husband?” Deja rolled her eyes as her friend continued, “And it’s not going to end with you calling us because you decided to pick a fight with him instead of talking to him? Yeah, I think that’s how you look.”

“Really, Raven?” Deja huffed.

“If you wanted someone to gas you up, you should have made sure Jaz was free before you made dinner plans with Chris.” She crossed her arms and leaned back on her couch, “But you didn’t, so this is what you get. You always look gorgeous. You _don’t_ always act right.” She pointed her finger at her phone screen, “I’m trying to set you up for success.”

Dea turned the camera back around as she moved from her closet to sit down on her bed, “You know he doesn’t deserve nearly a fraction of the loyalty you show to him, right?”

“Maybe not,” she replied, “but you do. You love that man, and you’ve been miserable for months without him. Now, you’re in a position to finally get the marriage you’ve wanted with him instead of the one that you settled for. It’s my job as your chosen family to do what I can to help make that happen.” Raven tossed her hair over her shoulder, “My loyalty to him is purely because of my love for you.”

“Careful, Raven, you’re sounding real sentimental and soft over there,” the other woman teased.

“Layers like an onion, baaaay-by,“ she quipped before giving her best friend a knowing look. "I also don’t know why you’re asking me how you look when we both know that’s the dress you wore on your first date with Chris fifty eleven years ago. We both know he’s going to be blown away.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that this is the same dress.” Deja asserted as she smoothed the hem of the blue dress she was wearing, “And, even if it was, the odds of him remembering are probably nonexistent.”

Raven huffed in annoyance before she spoke, “Good to see you finally putting in some effort.”

“You know, I want to be mad at that statement,” Deja sighed, “but I can’t. I’m finally realizing that there were a thousand different ways that I could have gone about getting space that didn’t involve running from Boston while leaving Chris in the dark about everything that I was feeling.”

“The growth,” her best friend exclaimed as she put her hand on her chest, “Shoot, maybe I need to go get some therapy my damn self.”

“Weeeeeell,” Deja drew out, “now that you mention it, I could probably help you come up with a list of some things to talk to one about.”

Raven stuck her tongue out at her friend before she said, “Rude.”

“You love me,” she asserted before she blew a kiss towards the phone screen.

“Against any and all better judgment considering the pain in my butt you’ve been since the moment we met,” Raven retorted.

“And yet, here you are cheering for the home team.” Deja motioned a one hand finger gun, "Things we love to see? It!”

“You did not just hit me with finger guns?” Raven shook her head, “Ya know, you’d gotten back some of your flava since separating from Chris, but I can see his frat boy tendencies are back to being an influence.”

The other woman scoffed, “You say frat boy, I say loveable goof.”

“It is possible for both of those things to be true at the same time,” her best friend responded, drily.

Deja grinned, “Layers like an onion, right?”

“Right,” Raven laughed. The doorbell ran on Deja’s end and she started laughing for a whole new reason as she watched excitement overcome her Deja’s face. “Go eat some good food and have a good night with your husband.”

“Yes ma’am,” she answered.

“And make sure you be _nice_ to that man,” she chided.

“Yes ma’am,” Deja replied.

Raven gave her a grin, “Love you, sis.”

“Love you, too,” she responded before she hung up the phone.

* * *

Chris shifted his weight from foot to foot as nervousness coursed through his veins and butterflies took up residency in his stomach. Even though he knew they were in a better place than they had been in a long time, he also knew it was fragile.

He started to ring the doorbell again, but Deja opened the door before he could. As the door opened, he began to make a joke about her taking so long to open the door but, at the sight of her, the joke died on his lips.

“Wow…” he cleared his throat, “you look…amazing.”

“What? This old thing?” She moved to let him in and closed the door behind him, “It’s nothing special.”

She took the bag of food and wine bottle from his hands as she walks towards the kitchen to set the items on the counter. When she turned around, she found Chris right behind her.

“I disagree.” He reached out and toyed with the strap of her dress as a wave of emotion he couldn’t quite identify passed over him, “It’s so special that you wore it on our very first date.”

She looked down at the ground and bit her lip before she said, “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember.”

He chuckled as he ran his hand down her arm, grasping her hand before he spun her around and gently pulled her so that her back was against him. He wrapped his arms around her before he whispered in her ear, “How could I forget? It was fall in DC, and I thought the turning leaves were the prettiest thing about the city until you opened your door.”

“Mmm,” Deja’s eyes fluttered close.

“Your hair wasn’t in twists like tonight, though.” He leaned down to nuzzle her neck briefly before he continued, “Pretty sure it was a twist out instead, yeah?”

“Uh…yea that’s…right,” she stammered.

“Yeah,” another chuckle escaped from his lips, causing her to shiver. “You had those purple highlights that only made an appearance under the right lights.” He ran both hands up her arms, stopping to splay a hand over each shoulder as she leaned into him. "You were also wearing a gold necklace that stopped right about…” he ran one finger down her sternum and stopped right at her cleavage, “here. You were also wearing some sort of gold shimmer on your skin that kept me distracted the entire night.”

After a few deep breaths, she removed his hand from her chest and moved to create some space between the two of them, “Good memory, Evans.”

He grinned as she turned her back towards him as she moved to grab wine glasses from the cabinet, “Sorry if that was too much.”

Deja took another deep breath before turning to face her husband, “You definitely are anything, but Christopher.”

“You’re right,” he confirmed as put his hands in the front pockets of his gray slacks and leaned against the counter, “But you looked a little shaky so…”

“Would you like to open the wine or should I?” Deja asked as she ruefully shook her head and tried to hide her own grin.

“I assume we’re eating out on the patio since it’s warm enough?” Chris asked. When she nodded and affirmed his assumption was correct, he answered, “I can handle getting the food out, if you want to handle the wine.”

“Deal.” Deja grabbed a corkscrew, out of a kitchen drawer, and the bottle of wine as Chris grabbed the bag of food, plates, and silverware.

Deja headed towards the sliding glass doors as her husband followed suit. 

* * *

“Your mom is seriously one of the best cooks I know,” Deja stated as she leaned back in her chair, “I’m going to have to stop by sometime this week and see her. I might bring her some flowers as a thank you for cooking for us.”

“She’d love that.” Chris nudged her foot under the table, “Dodger would probably enjoy seeing you, too.”

She shifted in her chair as she said, “If you want to be there too, I wouldn’t…ya know, be opposed to that.”

He smiled at her, “I think that can be arranged.”

“Good. Now,” Deja leaned on the table, “for the most important question of the night.”

Chris set down his wineglass and replicated her posture, “Shoot.”

“You wanna dance with me?” she asked.

He laughed, “Let me guess? You made a playlist for tonight?”

“We all have strengths.” She pushed her chair back from the table, “Playlisting is one of mine. It’d be foolish to not utilize it when the situation allows for it to flourish.”

“Flourish?” he mocked.

“If you don’t want to dance with me, dear husband, you can just say that.” Deja huffed as she tossed her twists over her shoulder as she stood, “ I have no problem dancing on my own.”

Her husband leaned back in his chair before suggestively looking her up and down, “Now there’s a suggestion.”

“Not like that!” She giggled, “You have the dirtiest mind, Christopher Robert!”

“In my defense,” he rose an eyebrow and deepened his voice, “I have a hell of a muse to help me set up camp in the gutter.”

Despite the warmth of the night, Deja felt herself shiver. A beat passed before Chris stood and held out his hand to her, “Let’s dance.”

“Alexa, play the Begin Again playlist,” Deja called out as he rounded the table and they both moved onto the open space on their patio.

The soft sounds of Anita Baker’s _Sweet Love_ began to play over the speakers as Chris pulled Deja into his arms and the two began to sway.

_With all my heart, I love you baby_ _  
Stay with me, and you will see my arms will hold you, baby  
Never leave, ‘cause I believe I’m in love_

He twirled her around and brought her back in so that her back was to him. Chris couldn’t help the smile that worked its way onto his face as Deja sang along softly.

_Sweet love, hear me callin’ out your name_ _  
I feel no shame; I’m in love  
Sweet love, don’t you ever go away  
It’ll always be this way_

With another twirl, Deja was facing Chris again. Her husband was completely captivated by how she looked in the moonlight. He took the hand that was intertwined in his and placed it on his shoulder. His newly freed hand joined his other one on her lower back. Chris placed his forehead against hers and they swayed with their eyes closed.

_Your heart has called me closer to you_ _  
I will be all that you need  
Just trust in what we’re feeling  
Never leave, 'cause baby, I believe  
In this love_

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Chris admitted so softly that Deja would have thought she dreamt it if not for the warmth of his breath fanning across her face.

She matched his tone as she responded, “I really wish you would.”

Chris stopped rocking them from side to side. Deja’s eyes remain closed, but Chris gingerly opened his. He pulled back slightly and his heart constricted at seeing her upturned face, waiting for him to make a move. Chris gently cupped her face with one hand and softly placed his lips on hers, his eyes drifting close. 

His hand moved from her face to entangle in her hair and he can feel her melting into him. She sighed and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, eager to take as much as she was willing to give to him.

Deja could feel her heart as it pounded in her chest and her knees weakened. The music seemed to fade away and all that she could focus on was how soft his lips felt against hers and how good it felt to be back in his arms again. 

After a few moments pass, the pair came up for air, still wrapped up in each other’s arms. They both stared at one another. Neither one was quite sure what to say.

Still breathing heavily, Chris spoke first in an attempt to lighten the mood, “That is definitely one flourishing playlist.”

Deja tossed her head back and laughed, “I told you that I’m a woman of many talents.”

“That you are,” he conceded.

“Well, since tonight has obviously gone well, I wanted to ask you something before it got too late,” She closed her eyes before she asked, “Did you want to spend the night?” Deja opened her eyes just in time to see a look of surprise flash across her husband’s face, “Not that we’d we sleep together. I mean, we would sleep in the same bed, we just wouldn’t ya know _sleeeep_ together.”

Chris pondered her question for a moment and doubt began crept into Deja’s mind. She tried to disentangle herself from him, but he gently held her in place as he asked, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She attempted to extricate herself from him again and, this time, he let her go. She moved over to the table and started to gather their dishes together. Chris gave her a few minutes before he came up behind her and gingerly placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Talk to me, Dea,” he encouraged.

She sighed as she turned around to face him. She chewed on her bottom lip as Chris waited patiently for her to speak. She looked down at the ground, “One of our biggest issues has been that I don’t communicate my needs so,” she sighed again before she looked him in the eyes, “here it goes. I haven’t really slept well since I left…well, ran to DC. It’s been even worse since I’ve been back in the house.” She shook her head, “I don’t even sleep in our room anymore because the bed feels too big without you and Dodger.” She fidgeted with the hem of her dress, “It’s just become this huge reminder of what’s missing.”

Chris wanted to respond, but he sensed that she wasn’t quite done speaking. She reached out to clasp his hands in hers before continuing, “So, I’m asking you to stay the night because I want to fall asleep next to my husband. Because, baby, I am exhausted, and to be completely honest, I’ve just really missed having you in the house.“

“Thank you,” he pulled her into a hug, “I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“Yeah…vulnerable isn’t really my thing.” She pulled back from the hug to look up at him, “but you’re worth risking it. Always have been, but the last few weeks of therapy have really shown that to me. So…” she grimaced before asking, “your answer?”

He softly smiled at her and gently kissed her on the forehead, “Let’s get the patio cleaned up and go to bed.”


	10. LCTWTO 10

Chris couldn’t contain the small smile that found its way to his face as he stared at Deja’s sleeping form, curled up next to him with her head on his chest. He’d missed waking up to a floral print bonnet and the faint scent of coconut oil. Chris had always teased her about how she seemed to always end up right next to him despite how huge their bed was, but he’d missed the familiarity of her figure tucked into his arms. Sleep had come far easier last night with her by his side than he had in all the months of staying at his mother’s house.

But as good as it felt, he couldn’t shake the thread of anxiety that was working its way into the moment, and he felt himself grow tense.

“Your thinking is disturbing my sleep,” Deja mumbled as she stretched slightly without opening her eyes.

He softly kissed the top of her head, “Sorry.”

She leaned back slightly so she could look at his face, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about.” He brought her hand that was resting on her chest to his lips, ghosting a kiss across her knuckles, “Just realizing how much I’ve missed waking up next to you.”

She ran a finger along the chain of his St. Christopher pendant, “That makes two of us. Thank you for staying.”

He nodded, “Thank you for asking. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“I know you probably have plans for the day, but I could cook you breakfast before you go,” she suggested as she moved to rest her head back on his chest.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, “I would love that, but could we stay like this for a little bit longer.”

She placed a soft kiss on his chest as she settled into his side, “I’d love nothing more.”

* * *

Chris leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table as he watched Deja move around the kitchen, adorned in leggings and one of his t-shirts. She bobbed her head along to the faint sounds of her handcrafted Broadway musical playlist that was faintly playing throughout their house.

The normalcy of the movement and the weight of how long it had been since he’d been in this setting swept over him. A ball of anxiety quickly formed in the pit of his stomach.

It wasn’t sure he could identify the root cause, but, much like when he had awoken this morning, he couldn’t figure out how to shake it either.

“How do you want your eggs? Scrambled or over easy?” Deja asked. She turned her head towards him when he failed to answer and called again, “Chris? Christopher?”

It took a moment for him to register that she was talking to him, “What. Sorry. What’d you say?”

“Eggs.” A look of concern flashed across her face before she asked, “How would you like your eggs?”

He cleared his throat as he scratched his beard, “Scrambled.”

She nodded and turned back around to the stovetop. Chris hadn’t missed the uneasy look she’d given him but didn’t know what to say to put her at ease. Especially when he wasn’t sure why he was feeling the way he felt. With a soft sigh, Chris got up and walked over to where she was. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her. They gently swayed as she continued softly singing and working on their breakfast. 

“Can you grab plates?”

He let her go, trailing a hand along her back as he moved to grab plates out of the cabinet. He set them on the counter, next to the stove, and rocked back and forth on his feet as he watched her place eggs, bacon, and pancakes on each plate.

“Table or couch?” Deja asked as she tried to overlook the fact that he was avoiding looking at her.

“Couch,” he answered before he grabbed the plates and headed towards the living room.

Deja got out the silverware they would need and poured both of them a glass of orange juice before she followed suit. Sensing that Chris probably needed a bit of space between them, she elected to sit on the opposite side of the couch but swung her legs over to rest in his lap.

Both grabbed their plates and took their first few bites in silence.

“You know,” Chris cleared his throat, “I think we’ve hit a record.”

“Oh yeah?” she inquired.

“Yep.” Chris shrugged as he picked at his plate, “We’ve been around each other for double-digit hours and haven’t argued yet.”

Trying to lighten the mood, Deja joked, “Well, we were asleep for most of it. Plus, the day is still young, Evans.”

“True.” He took a sip of orange juice before he continued, “But, you’ve got to admit, there isn’t this angry tension hanging in the air the way that it used to. It’s nice.”

She nodded her head and contemplated on whether she should comment on the fact that it seemed like they’d just swapped out angry tension for an awkward one. She chose to simply affirm his statement and let him lead the conversation, “Yeah, it is.”

He sat his plate on the coffee table, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sounds heavy.” She put her plate down and sat up straight, “Hit me with it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Is any part of you afraid of us giving this another try? Because this feels nice, but what if we can’t sustain it? What if we’re just lulling ourselves into a sense of false hope.”

“I’m terrified,” she admitted. She moved so she could sit beside him and gently intertwined her hand with his, “Mostly of my own ability to screw this up, but there are some behaviors from you that I’m worried about too. But the thing that makes me want to try, despite how scared I am, is that I don’t want to turn on the tv one day and see you married with kids to someone who isn’t me and wonder what if I would have just given it one more shot.” Deja looked down at the ground, “I don’t want to wonder what if we would have earnestly tried to forgive each other and figure out a life that makes us both happy and healthy and the best versions of ourselves. If we try and fail, I’ll figure out a way to live with it. It’ll suck. It’ll hurt. It’ll be a long time before I’m willing to let myself love someone else, but I’ll be able to sleep at night, knowing that we did everything we could and it just wasn’t meant to be.”

He nodded, taking in her answer. After a few moments passed without a word from him, Deja gingerly asked, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he answered.

She chewed on her lip for a beat before she softly asked, "Is it the idea of us not being able to sustain this what scares you? Or is it the idea that you could think everything was okay between us and miss that I was unhappy which could lead to me leaving again?”

As she spoke, Chris felt like she’d been able to identify exactly why he’d woken up feeling an overwhelming sense of dread, “Well, when you phrase it like that, I think it’s definitely the second one.”

“And that’s my fault.” She released his hand and clasped her hands together in her lap, “Whatever you did or didn’t do, I have to own the fact that I left in the worse way possible. Look, I realize now that I should have been honest about my feelings and I should have asked for space instead of just haphazardly taking it. I know that’s a violation of trust that I’m going to have to rebuild, but I am willing to rebuild it if you’re willing to take the chance.” She took a deep breath and released it with a sigh, “We can wait until we’re back in Dr. L’s office if you want, but I’m also open to having this discussion now. We’ve talked a lot about my feelings and what caused me to leave, but we haven’t really spent any time discussing how you felt in the wake of me being gone and ignoring your calls and texts. You have every right to be upset and angry about that and I want to give you the opportunity to put those cards out on the table.”

He knew his answer was going to hurt her, but he knew that they wouldn’t get anywhere if he wasn’t honest about his feelings. He measured his words, trying to make sure that his tone was absent of any hint of anger or resentment, “And I want to. Believe me. But, I worry about saying the wrong thing. About sharing my feelings and you feeling as if they’re eclipsing yours.”

“Guess I really did some damage, here, huh?” Deja softly choked out, trying to blink back the tears that had began to form.

“Yeah, you did,” he admitted. He reached for her hand, hoping that the gesture would help make the situation even a tiny bit easier. "I don’t want to be afraid to share with you, Dea, but I also don’t want to be afraid to lose you and, right now, both of those are very real fears for me and it makes me feel anxious around you.”

She knew that was hard for him to admit. And, even though it hurt to hear, she was proud of him for being honest with her.

“Chris, look at me.” She waited until she had his eye before she continued, “I am so sorry. There was no excuse for the way I left and how I acted in the aftermath of it. I’ve been trying to justify it, but the truth is, I just fell back on what I’ve always done which is run when it gets hard. Meeting you and falling in love with you was easy. It was damn near a fairytale, but I wasn’t prepared for what comes after ‘happily ever after’ and the reality of the day to day. I’ve never really had a good experience with that.” She brought a hand up to cup his cheek and her heart ached as she watched him close his eyes and lean into her touch, “You had your faults, but I should have trusted you to hear me and consider me and I never allowed you to do that. And I understand that, right now, you have zero reasons to trust that I won’t do it again. But I’m hoping that, with enough time, you’ll be able to come to a place where the risk of trusting that I’m here and ready to do the work doesn’t seem like much of a risk at all.”

He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand before he opened his eyes and spoke, “We have four until we have to decide whether or not to pull the divorce papers. You really believe that’s enough time?”

“Honestly? For the fault lines that exist on both sides of this equation? No, I don’t.” She moved her hand from his face, “But if you would have told me all those years ago that I was going to run into _the_ Captain America after a meeting on Capitol Hill and he was going to ask me out? Wouldn’t have believed it. If you would have told me that I was going to agree to and end up marrying that man after eight months? Wouldn’t have believed it.” Deja reached out and grasped both of his hands, “And, if you would have told me, just a few months ago, that after everything we’ve been through, that you and I would be sitting on our couch, seriously talking about staying together and it wouldn’t turn into a yelling match? I wouldn’t have believed that was possible either. You and I have always been a big bundle of things I never really believed could happen. Why doubt that now?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tried to joke, “You know, you could probably try your hand at being a romance author. That little speech was the Notebook level.”

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, first of all, that storyline was awful and I just feel bad for the poor nurse who probably got fired at the end since she let ole boy go see his wife when he wasn’t supposed to be visiting.” She caressed his hand with her thumb and spoke softly, “Second of all, you crack jokes when you’re anxious or uncomfortable so I’m not going to push this conversation further, but I do want to make it clear that I meant every single word that I just said.”

He gently detangled his hands from hers and sat back on the couch, “I know you do and, I hear your apology. I know you mean it. I’m just…working through what it looks like to accept it internally instead of just saying that I have and harboring resentment.” He ran his hand over his beard, “I know you went through the trouble of making breakfast, but I j-“

“No longer have an appetite,” she finished while glancing at her plate, “That makes two of us. I was going to suggest that you come back over for dinner tonight, but I think you could probably use some space.”

“Yeah. That’s…uh…probably for the best,” he agreed.

She blinked back tears, “Don’t worry about cleaning up. I could use the distraction.”

He stood and stretched out a hand to her, "Walk me to the door?”

She took his hand and let him help her off the couch. He walked towards the door and Deja trailed in his wake. When he reached the entrance, he turned and opened his arms. She immediately stepped into them and he wrapped his arms around her. She melted into the embrace and he softly kissed the top of her head with a sigh.

Her face is buried in his chest so her words are muffled, but he heard her loud and clear, “I love you.”

Chris pulled back a little so he could see her face. He softly kissed her on the forehead before he whispered, “I love you, too.”

He gently removed his arms from around her and left the house.

* * *

Deja slid down the door as soon as it closed and wrapped her arms around herself, finally allowing tears to fall from her eyes as she heard his car pull away. She pushed her braids out of her face and took a deep breath. She scrambled off the floor and grabbed her cellphone from the counter.

She flopped down on the couch in the living room as she dialed a number that she’d been avoiding for a few months now. She wasn’t at all surprised when the phone was picked up on the second ring.

“Well well, look who finally decided to call her dear old auntie,” the voice greeted through the phone.

She sniffled, “I’m sure the tabloids and church gossip have let you know that I’ve been busy with my world imploding.”

“Even more reason to call me,” her aunt responded drily. “And let’s not act like you haven’t had time to call Jazmine and Raven.”

Deja couldn’t help but laugh, “You have made some fine points, Auntie Chelle.”

“Ah, pay me no mind, child,” Chelle instructed. “I knew you’d call when you were ready and just exactly when you needed to hear what I had to say.” Deja didn’t need to see her aunt to envision the knowing look on her face. The woman was a fountain of wisdom and she knew it. Chelle prodded, “Well, get on with it child. I can’t lend a listening ear if you ain’t talking.”

She took a deep breath, “Chris and I might not be getting a divorce.”

“Let the saints say ‘Amen’,” she exclaimed, and Deja started to roll her eyes but stopped short when Chelle scolded, “And don’t you go rolling your eyes at me, missy.”

“Sorry,” she chuckled. “Auntie Chelle, what if…what if I’m not capable of being a good wife? What if he manages to change for the better and I’m just inherently damaged and unable to be a good partner to him.”

“Oh honey, if ‘ifs’ were a fifth, we’d all be drunk. Look, your mother is my sister and I love her deeply, but I can freely admit that she didn’t do right by you and your sisters. She let your father make her hard and they both are difficult. Now, I tried to shield y’all from that as much as I could, but there’s only so much I could do,” she lamented.

She leaned back on the couch, “But how much of this can I blame on them? They fed us, they kept a roof over our heads, and never laid a hand on us.”

“The bare minimum might keep CPS out of your business, but that doesn’t mean that it’s a good household,” she chided. “Growing up in a cold house can choke the life out of you, in a whole host of different ways. Your two sisters don’t know how to handle people loving them well because the warmth of it feels scalding hot after being in the cold so long.” Chelle carefully weighed her words before she continued, “But you? You’ve always sought out people who keep you warm. The only downside to that is you try to keep yourself safe by running whenever you feel so much as a chill sweep through. You and your sisters aren’t beyond repair. They just need to dip their feet in the water and let their bodies get used to the temperature. Nina’s getting there with this new beau of hers. Tiffany’s just gotta find the right body of water.” She sighed, “And you, my dear child, you’ve just gotta figure out a way to see that Chris is a winter coat and not the inclement weather that you’re trying to shield yourself from.”

“All of this just…what if I’m just inherently too hard to love?” Deja questioned, finally vocalizing one of her biggest fears.

“Honey, if someone, _anyone_ , can love you, then there’s a pathway to it,” she rebuked, shaking her head and, not for the first time, feeling anger swell towards her sister and brother-in-law. “Even if it’s a long pathway, it proves that it can, in fact, be done. And Deja Renee, I have loved you from the moment your Momma let me hold you. Furthermore, I have seen the way that Christopher looks at you. Whatever problems you two may have, his ability to feel love for you isn’t one of them. This isn’t an issue of whether or not that he _can_ love you. It’s an issue of whether or not you will _let_ him love you.”

Deja felt another wave of tears swell, “Th…thank you, Auntie Chelle.”

“You know that’s what I’m here for.” Chelle tittered, “Now, I know your parents don’t like Chris, but, quiet as it’s kept, the reason they don’t like him is because they see in you both the life they weren’t able to build for themselves.”

Deja scoffed, “Surely the money Chris lets me send them every month should’ve helped them get over him being rich.”

“Child, they aren’t jealous of your money. They’re jealous that you’re happy,” she explained. “There are just somethings that money can’t buy you and someone who makes you glow the way Christopher does can’t be bought.”

Deja wiped her eyes and took a deep breath, deciding digging into the psyche of her parents wasn’t a task she wanted to tackle. She spoke quietly, “I’m sorry I haven’t called in a few months.”

Chelle waved her off, “Don’t you start apologizing about that, child. Like I said earlier, I knew you’d call when you were ready to hear what I had to say.”

Deja smiled, “I love you, Auntie Chelle.”

“And I love you,” she responded warmly. “Now, don’t you spend all day moping in that house of yours. You and Chris are working on your marriage, but I think it’s clear that you’ve got some real work to do on yourself. Get on with it, yeah?”

She nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

“I’ll let you go. I envision you won’t be in chaos too much longer which means you better not go another long stretch of months without calling me, ya hear,” she scolded.

She tried to stifle her laugher, “Yes ma’am.”

“Bye Deja Renee.”

“Bye Auntie Chelle.”

Deja laid all the way down on the couch. She tried to take in everything that her aunt had just shared with her while she replayed the morning’s events with Chris.

She scrolled through her phone until she reached the contact she needed to call. She waited for the other line to pick up.

When they did, she quietly, but confidently spoke, “Hi. My name is Deja Evans. My husband and I see Dr. Lundquist weekly for couple’s therapy. I was wondering if Dr. L had any recommendations for therapists who specialize in personal therapy.”

* * *

Scott glanced up at Chris from his spot on the couch, where he was watching television. He picked up the remote and turned the tv down a few notches, “You look way too morose for a walk of shame. Considering when you left this house yesterday versus what time it is now, you should be sauntering in with a grin. “

He scoffed and flopped down next to him, “I don’t think it’s considered a walk of shame when I’m leaving my house from having spent time with my wife.” He gestured to his outfit, “Plus, I’m in a different set of clothes.”

Scott threw a pillow at him, “You’re in sweats and a t-shirt. That’s a peak walk of shame outfit.”

“Even if I was willing to concede that point,” he pointed at his brother, “I’m not, by the way, but if I were—it’s still not a walk of shame of all you did was literally sleep in the same bed.”

He laughed, “That would explain why you’re so grumpy.”

Chris laid his head back against the backing of the couch and closed his eyes, “Could you not?”

He tilted his head and eyed his brother, “Please tell me you two didn’t get into a fight? You said therapy was helping you guys.”

“It is…” he sighed, “or, at the very least, it’s making it possible for us to actually talk to each other instead of past each other.”

“Which is a good thing, bro.”

Chris rubbed a hand across his face, “Yeah, but being able to talk to each other now doesn’t erase all the damage we’ve done up to this point.” He turned his head so he could look at his brother, “And I’m really starting to wonder if it will ever be the same again.”

“Why would you want it to be the same?” Scott shook his head, “Obviously, what you guys had wasn’t working. Now, you have the opportunity to build something better. Something that works and makes space for both of you.”

“That sounds good in theory but…” he trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. “I just keep thinking about how she was miserable and I didn’t know. She was so miserable that she felt like leaving and not talking to me was better than trying to talk to me about how she was feeling? And I missed that. Who’s to say years and a couple of kids from now, I don’t miss it again?”

“Fantastic Four.”

Confusion marred Chris’ face, “What?”

“Fantastic Four,” he repeated before asking, “Are we far enough removed from it that we can admit that it was awful? Are we there yet?”

“What does that have to do with this conversation?” Chris asked annoyance at the trajectory of the conversation starting to creep into his tone.

“I have a point. A _fantastic_ point.” Scott grinned as Chris groaned at his joke, “Just go with me for a second. Terrible movies, right?”

Chris shrugged, “Admittedly, they could have done better, but they weren’t terrible.”

“Agree to disagree,“ Scott stated with an eye-roll. "My point, however, is that while those movies didn’t perform at the box office in the way that everyone expected them to, look at how insanely popular you were as Captain America. Those movies could have debuted just as badly as the Fantastic Four movies, but you spanned over ten years and a franchise that’s _still_ putting out bangers after you retired from it.” He slightly punched his older brother in the arm, “Bro, if you were willing to take that risk for a role, there’s no way in hell you back down from taking it for your wife.”

Chris leaned his head back in its previous position on the couch. He concentrated on taking deep breaths in and out as he searched for a way to articulate to his brother exactly what he was feeling. Scott, sensing the heaviness of the moment, let him take his time without any more jokes or prodding

“Last night felt amazing. Waking up to her this morning was…” he scratched his beard, “it felt incredible. I don’t want to lose that, but I don’t know that I’m capable of being more than I already was and, well, we already know that wasn’t good enough. “

“Or maybe,” Scott countered, “it was less about you not being good enough and more about Deja not allowing you to rise to the occasion. Admittedly, I’ve only been around her family the week that they were here for the wedding, but a week was enough.” He shuddered, “There’s a reason she doesn’t even try to get you to visit her family for the holidays. From what I observed when they were here and what little she’s shared with me, it’s not hard to see that her parents aren’t exactly picture-perfect models of what a loving relationship is.”

He stared at Scott, “Is this the part where I remind you that our parents are divorced?”

“Which means they realized they were better apart and that we were all better off with them being apart as opposed to being miserable together,” he argued. “Which is something Deja’s parents have yet to figure out. Plus, our parents have never spoken to us the way Deja’s parents talk to her. And, if I can see that they probably had an impact on how she views and exists in relationships, you who probably know quite a bit more, should be able to see it too.”

“Yeah, they’re…well.” Chris shook his head, unable to say anything nice about his in-laws. “Let’s just say that Deja and her sisters probably turned out so well because of how much time they spent with her Aunt.”

“The one that wore the really big hat to your wedding?”

“That would be the one,” he confirmed with a small smile. “Chelle is amazing and probably the only person in Deja’s family actively rooting for us to make it.”

Scott shrugged, “Hey, you need everyone you can get in your corner.”

“You get no argument from me on that,” Chris agreed.

“Look, you screwed up, Chris. You know you weren’t as supportive of Deja as you should have been and, I’d wager that you weren’t completely blind to that fact you were just waiting for her to speak up. Now, you know better so you can do better.” Scott nudged his brother with his knee, “Bro, this isn’t a situation of you were picture perfect and got blindsided. There are things that you can do to be a better husband. So, concentrate on doing that and allow Deja to prove that she’s willing to do better too. Forever is never a guarantee, hell, our own parents are proof of that, but we had a great life growing up. You have the potential to have a marriage that is stronger and happier than it has ever been. You could throw all of that away because there’s no guarantee that it’ll last forever, but why sign yourself up for a lifetime of regret and hurt when you could take a leap of faith and end up with something really good.”

“I’m not giving up,” Chris denied. “I’m just…trying to figure out how to move forward. I love her. You know that. I’m just trying to figure out how to be hopeful instead of terrified.”

He nodded, “I think that’s perfectly reasonable. I also think that’s something you need to talk to your wife and therapist about. Deja kept her feelings from you and helped create this mess. Doesn’t make too much sense for you to follow suit if you’re trying to clean that mess up.”

“When did you become so wise,” Chris questioned.

“Well, you see, my older meatball head brother got a wife and I had to find other friends to hang out with while he was spending time being a husband. Turns out, when you hang out with smart people some of that rubs off on you,” Scott quipped.

Chris laughed as he threw a pillow at his brother before he headed to his room.


End file.
